


Growing Up

by JellyfishLP



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Other, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:35:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 43
Words: 196,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21680302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JellyfishLP/pseuds/JellyfishLP
Summary: Chester and Mike come from totally different family backgrounds, what will happen when they meet? Their journey from being kids to grown-ups will be difficult. Story will include themes of child abuse and mental illness, but also happy aspects of friendship and family. They are the same age in this story.
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

Mr. And Mrs. Shinoda were very proud on their eight-year old son Mike; they had raised him bilingually, so he spoke both English and Japanese fluently, he had been practicing the piano since he had been three years old, and although he was just in second grade, he was already at the top of his class in every subject. He had many friends and was not only creative in music, but also in art. His father was a lawyer, his mother worked part-time as a secretary, while their only child was at school. The family had never had financial problems, and yet, Mike wasn’t going to one of those fancy private schools, but to a normal school in one of the better regions of L.A., and his parents made sure he learned the value of money at a young age. His father insisted on raising his son the old school way, while his mother always tried to convince her husband to be more open-minded to modern ways of parenting.

One Saturday morning, Mike was at the mall with his parents, and while his mother was shopping for new skirts for work, he had managed to talk his father into buying him a new set of watercolors, when a remote-controlled car caught his eyes. It was a big, red Porsche with flames on the sides…and extremely expensive.

“Dad? Look at that car! Can I have it? Pleeeaaasee?” he asked with his best puppy eyes.

“Did you see the price, Michael?”

“Um, yes, but…you can afford it, right? You’ve got money?"

“I do. But it’s still expensive, and I won’t buy a you a toy this expensive right now.” he said, squatting down in front of Mike.

“Why not, Daddy?”

Muto sighed, the damn puppy eyes were back and he was close to actually buying the car, but Mike had to learn that just because you’re rich, you can’t get everything you want. “Listen, Michael. You know that we do have money. But you should also know that this is no reason to have everything you want. Your mother wants new shoes every month, I want a pool in the garden, and you want this ridiculously overpriced remote-control car. Just because we have the money, doesn’t mean we should spend it.” When he saw the disappointment in his son’s eyes, he added with a smile: “Maybe you’ll get it for Christmas, who knows?”

“But, Dad, I don’t wanna wait until it’s Christmas!”

“Michael Kenji, you are not going to throw a tantrum in the store, are you?” he asked in a strict tone that made Mike lower his gaze to the floor. “So, let’s pay for those watercolors and go home, hm?”

“Ok, Dad…” Mike mumbled before casting one last glance at the red car he wanted so desperately.

He knew he had to come here again to show it to his best friend Brad.

xxxxx

Meanwhile, in a different part of the city, eight-year old Chester Bennington was currently pleading with his step father to get a new pair of sneakers, although he knew there was no hope.

“Please, Steven! The other kids at school are all laughing at me! My shoes have holes in them, I really need new ones!”

“Do I look like I care about your stupid ass, you little son of a bitch? I said no!”

Steven had been his mother’s second husband, before she had passed away from a drug overdose two years ago. He had never met his real father, and so he came to live with Steven, whom he never called ‘Dad’, in a trailer park. Steven didn’t really care for Chester, and he already looked forward to the day when he would kick him out of his ‘house’, but that day had not come yet, since Chester was only in elementary school. After Chester’s mom had died, Steven had become an alcoholic, lost his job, and treated Chester even worse than before.

“But everyone makes fun of me for wearing those shoes! Please!” Chester shouted.

“I don’t have money for that kinda crap, you little pussy! And stop yelling at me! Now get out of my sight!"

_Doesn’t he know that it takes all my courage to ask him for something?_ Chester thought. _Why can’t he just be nice? I wish Mom was still with_ _me…_

“But you have money for cigarettes all the time and –“

Chester immediately shut up when Steven got up from his chair and started walking towards him with his right hand raised. He froze for a second before he realized what was about to happen and then he just ran. Out of the room, out of the trailer and out of Steven’s way. He ran through the rain in just shorts, the sneakers with holes and a thin t-shirt, and he only stopped running when he stumbled over his own feet and fell on the muddy ground. As he sat down under a tree he knew he couldn’t stay out here forever. He had to go back to the trailer before it got dark, although he knew Steven sometimes got drunk at night, and then he was even less safe at home than when Steven was sober.

_I don’t wanna go home._ _Home – what is that? I don’t have a home. The other kids in my class all live in houses or apartments with their parents, and I live here. I miss mom, she could always calm Steven down…I’m scared of him, and I’m scared of what he does to me at night. It usually only happens when he’s drunk or angry with me or both. It hurts and I don’t really understand what he’s doing, but I hate it. It’s so disgusting and sometimes I have to puke afterwards because I can’t struggle against him, he’s too strong. It started last year, and I don’t know when it will end. I wish someone could help me, but I haven’t told anyone. Who would believe me, anyway?_

The bruises on Chester’s arms were a painful reminder of what had happened three times in the previous week. When it was already dark outside, he walked back to their trailer, hoping that Steven was already asleep.

xxxxx

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	2. Chapter 2

Mike had done something he had never done before. He hadn’t gone home immediately after school, which would have taken him only ten minutes by foot, no, he had taken the bus to the mall with Brad, his best friend who just lived a block away from his house. They always went to school together, and it was the first time their way home had taken so long. Sure, they often stopped at the playground nearby, but never had something like this happened. Mike had taken some of the money he had gotten for his birthday, and bought a bus ticket for Brad and himself, then they had taken the bus to the mall, just like his father had shown him. He felt like such a grown up for figuring it all out by himself.

“Look at this car! Dad didn’t want to buy it, can you believe that?"

“Wooow, it’s remote-controlled, and it’s a Porsche, and…” Brad, whose parents were both doctors, counted down the car’s qualities with his fingers. “My parents would get me one for my birthday, or Christmas, maybe. But it’s so expensive!”

Mike had been thinking about the car non-stop ever since he first saw it last Saturday, and of course, it had been the first thing he ha painted with his new watercolors. Suddenly, he had an idea. An idea his parents could never find out about.

“Brad…what if we steal it?” he whispered.

“Are you nuts? No!” Brad argued, shaking his head.

It was then that Mike wondered, for the first time, how his friend could fit all this hair under a cap. “Why not? I’ll hide it, Dad will never find out.”

“Why would you get to keep it if we steal it together, that’s unfair!”

“Because I saw it first! And we can share it, we’ll just play with it together when you come over.”

After a few minutes of arguing, they had come to an agreement, and the car disappeared in Mike’s backpack, before they left the store. It was the eighties, no store had cameras, and there were a lot of other kids with and without their parents in the store, so they managed to leave the mall undetected.

“We’ll get in so much trouble if our parents find out about this, Mike!”

“Don’t be so afraid, it will stay in my room and nobody will ever know!”

xxxxx

Mike’s mother didn’t question that her son came home an hour late, he probably had gone to the playground with Brad and it had taken a little longer than usually. She and her husband gave their son a lot of freedom, and he played outside with the other kids all day, without worried parents watching over them all day. They lived in a good neighborhood, and nothing ever happened there. Mike had all the freedom in the world outside, but at home, there were strict rules.

“Hi mom, I’m home!”

“There you are, pumpkin. How was school today?”

“Like always…”

“Well, what did you learn?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? Show me your homework folder.”

Mike panicked; if he had to open his backpack right here in the hallway, his mother would see the car. He decided to bring his backpack upstairs to his room, where he would hide it. The rest of the day went relatively quiet. He had done his homework in record time, because he just couldn’t wait to play with the new car, and later they had dinner when his father came home. Mike knew exactly what would happen if his parents found out he had stolen something. He knew it was bad, but he couldn’t help himself. It was four months until Christmas, and he didn’t want to wait. It was simply impossible for him to wait. He was used to getting almost everything he wanted, whenever he wanted it.

xxxxx

It had been a couple of days since Chester had come home in the middle if the night after the argument with Steven. He practically raised himself, because Steven didn’t care at all, except when it came to hurting Chester whenever he felt like it. So when he came home covered in mud, Steven, of course, wasn’t asleep yet, and as soon as Chester came through the door, he was being yelled at and pushed into the shower. Thankfully, nothing else had happened that night.

xxxxx

Mike and Brad had two precious weeks with the remote-control car, before it all came to an end. They were currently playing soccer during the break, when Mike realized he hadn’t put the car back in its usual hiding place last night before he had to go to bed. He kicked the ball, and it hit Rob, their goal keeper and good friend, right on the head. After everyone had made sure Rob was ok, Mike whispered to Brad:

“I think I’ve left the car on the floor yesterday!”

“And?” “Mom is gonna see it today when she cleans the house! She always comes home an hour before I do to make some food and clean, and…and…oh god, she’ll be so mad!”

As expected, there was a huge discussion when Mike arrived home. He confessed right away, because he knew lying would make everything worse, but he also knew there would be another conversation when his father came home this evening.

“Please mom, please don’t tell dad! He’ll be so angry with me!” he begged.

“Yes, I will tell him, Michael. What were you thinking…stealing something? Your father has every right to be angry. I’ll talk to him about it during your piano lesson later.”

And so, Mike found himself sitting at the piano next to his teacher, less focused than ever, while he was thinking about what would happen at home once the lesson was over and his father would come and take him home. He was even more anxious than that time he accidently broke a window at Brad’s parent’s house. Or that time he…no, better don’t think about that. He was usually a well-behaved kid, but sometimes, even he screwed up. When the door bell rang, Mike wanted to die right here and now. He was silent the whole ride home, fidgeting with his fingers in his lap. His father hadn’t said anything since they had gotten into the car either, but Mike knew that was because he tried to never drive while being angry or upset. As soon as they were inside, he was led into the living room, and sat down on the couch opposite his father, who took a seat on a leather armchair.

“Michael” he began, “I had a very interesting conversation with your mother.”

Mike took the time to look down and study the blue and green striped pattern on his socks, while he listened to his father scolding him about how bad stealing was, that he had made a wrong decision and that he would have to be punished for his misbehavior.

“- And look at me when I talk to you, son.”

He dared to look up. So far, it was going fine, but he was sure his father wasn’t done yet.

“Also, we will go to the mall together tomorrow and return the car. You will admit that you and your friend stole it and then you will give it back.”

“But…dad, can’t we just pay for it? I wanna keep it!”

“There will be no further argument about this.”

“What about Brad? He was there with me when I…when it…um, happened.” Mike asked suddenly, in an attempt to distract his father from what he knew would come once the scolding part was over.

“I already called his parents. You’re not the only one having this conversation, Michael.” his dad said with a warm smile.

Although he needed to teach Mike a lesson, he wanted him to know that no matter what he did, he would always be loved by him and his wife. “Tell me, what were you thinking, Michael?”

“Um…I, um, I just couldn’t wait for Christmas, so I just t-t-took it” Mike stuttered. “I know stealing is wrong, but…”

“No buts. You know you made a mistake and you will learn from it. Now come here, you know the drill.” he said, patting his lap, already cursing himself for what he had to do, but he firmly believed that if he raised Mike the way his father had raised him, Mike would turn out fine.

“Daddy, no…I don’t want to!” Mike argued, trying to hide behind the sofa cushions.

“I don’t want to do this either, son, but you need to learn a lesson.” Mike argued some more, but as always, ended up bent over his father’s knee.

xxxxx 

In the meantime, Chester had similar problems, yet so different to Mike’s situation.

“What more do you want, I agreed to taking you to the fucking mall tomorrow, so you can get some new clothes, what else?!”

“I…I just need you to sign this thing for school.”

“What does it say, boy?” Steven asked without any hint of interest in his voice.

“It’s, um…I, I need…um…my teacher said I need to take an extra math course after school because I can’t keep up in class and - “

“Can’t do anything right, can you, boy? What part of elementary school math is it that you can’t understand?! It’s simple, you idiot!”

Chester was used to being called names, and he just ignored it most times. He just shoved the piece of paper he needed Steve to sign across the table. There was no need for him to tell Steven about the second part of his teacher’s letter, he could read it himself.

“She wants to see me?” Steven blurted out. “She wants to have a parent-teacher conversation because you disturbed her class three times and she thinks you have ADHD?” he asked, skimming over the letter, as Chester anxiously bit his lip.

“Ye…yes…” Chester admitted.

As soon as the words had left his mouth, he felt a sharp pain on his cheek.

“God damn it, boy, stop stuttering!”

“I…I…I can’t help it!” he cried, holding his cheek.

The stuttering was something Chester had developed after his mom had died, because now, there was no one at home that gave him stability and love anymore. It only happened when he was nervous or scared, sometimes it even happened at school, which gave the other kids another reason to bully him.

“Just fuck you…” Chester muttered under his breath.

“What did you just say?!”

“FUCK YOU!” he yelled in a fit of anger, running out the door.

He was yanked back into the room and bent over a nearby chair. Steven held him down with one hand on his back, while he unbuckled his belt with the other.

“No! Please! Please not the belt, I’ll do everything!”

“Can’t behave yourself here, can’t behave yourself at school, it’s time to learn another lesson, boy.” Steven said, yanking Chester’s sweatpants down and bringing the belt down on his butt and thighs again and again.

xxxxx

As he laid in bed, alone and in pain, pressed against the wall under his blanket, he clutched the teddy bear his mom gave him. _When will it end?_

xxxxx

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	3. Chapter 3

Mike was walking through the mall with his father, it was Thursday, and he had been picked up after school. They had just left the store to return the car and were now headed back to the parking lot. While he was walking next to his dad, pouting and embarrassed after the conversation with the shop owner, he saw a young boy who looked about his age. He had short, brown, curly hair and dark eyes. He was wearing blue jeans, white sneakers and a dark blue t-shirt with a grey, mean looking cartoon dinosaur on it, which just happened to be the exact same t-shirt Mike was wearing, but it looked older. _And he wears glasses, too._ _Just like me_ , Mike thought.

The man who accompanied him didn’t look like his dad, Mike noticed. _He doesn’t behave like a dad, he doesn’t even look like he wants to be there with him. They don’t look alike at all, and why is he dragging him away from all the toy stores?_

Just as Mike wondered if he had ever seen this boy at school, their eyes met. _Who’s that?_ Chester asked himself. _We’re wearing the same t-shirts! Is he smiling at me? Nobody ever smiles at me. Alright, smile back._

Chester looked at the other boy, who seemed to be here with his dad. Aside from the dinosaur t-shirt, he wore black and white expensive looking sneakers and grey jeans. Also a base cap which was the same color as his t-shirt, and glasses. He looked Asian, but Chester couldn’t tell from which country.

“What the hell are you doing smiling at this fucking foreigner, boy?” Steven asked, slapping Chester on the back of his head.

“Sorry, Steven” he mumbled quietly, now looking down at the ground.

Mike was shocked; the other boy wasn’t smiling anymore, and his eyes didn’t sparkle like they did a second ago. _My dad would never do that to me, he thought. And did the man say ‘fucking foreigner’? That’s not nice. My dad also never swears, and the last time I did that, he washed my mouth out with soap, so I haven’t done it at home in weeks…_

The moment had passed, and both boys walked in the opposite direction, lost in their own thoughts.

xxxxx

While standing in a kid’s clothing store, Chester looked out the window, and watched the Asian boy get in a black Mercedes with his father and drive away. _Jesus, such an expensive car. We don’t even have one, we came here by bus._ Chester thought, turning back to a black cap with green aliens on it; if he was lucky, Steven would buy it for him. They hadn’t been to the mall in ages. Two hours later, they were back in the trailer park, and Chester was both happy and suspicious. Steven had been nicer than usual today, and he had bought him five new t-shirts, a new pair of shoes and two new pairs of jeans. Sadly, he didn’t get the alien cap. Something was up, and Chester soon remembered what: Tomorrow would be the conversation with his math teacher, which he would have to attend, too. He would have to sit next to Steven in his new, clean clothes, listening to his teacher telling him what a bad student he was, and that he needed to pay more attention at school. Steven was always good at convincing people that everything was great at home, so no one got suspicious of what was really happening behind closed doors. Chester knew that as soon as they would be alone again, he’d get a beating for his behavior at school. For the rest of the day, he went outside. He climbed his favorite tree, and as he was sitting there, thinking about what the boy he had met today was doing right now, he did what he always did when he was sure nobody was listening: he sang to himself.

xxxxx

Back in his room, Mike sat at his desk, painting the alien cap he had been drooling over, but that his father had refused to buy him after the incident with the car. They hadn’t gone into the clothing store, but he had seen it through the shop-window. His thoughts drifted to the boy he had seen, wondering what he was doing right at this moment.

xxxxx

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	4. Chapter 4

It was the first day of school in fifth grade. New school, new kids, new teachers, new life. There was a huge event in the gym at the beginning of the schoolyear, and Mike, Brad and Rob sat next to each other, watching the headmaster talking about how today would start a new chapter in their lives. Mike let his eyes wander over the crowd, and there, on a bench near them sat a boy he had seen before, a few years ago. The boy sat alone, his legs dangling from the bench. There were other kids sitting on the bench, but they sat a few feet away and it didn’t look as if he was part of their group. He looked a bit small for his age, and he was silently humming a melody to himself while listening to the headmaster’s speech. He also didn’t seem to be able to sit still for very long, since he was constantly swinging his legs and fidgeting with a pen.

When the speech was over, it was time for the kids to be separated into their classes. Mike and his friends took a list out of their backpacks – Mike had gotten a brand new one for the new schoolyear – to find out which teacher would lead their class for the next two years, and then joined the group of about 25 students who went to the same teacher. To Mike’s surprise, the boy he’d seen earlier was one of them, too. Brad and Rob were deep in conversation about some movie, so Mike decided to talk to the other boy.

“Hey, you! I’ve seen you before!”

xxxxx

Someone is talking to me, so I turn my head and see who it is. Wait…I’ve seen him before, too. But where? It takes me a few seconds until I remember. The mall a few years ago…he was there with his father and I was there with Steven. No, don’t think about Steven. It will only make me remember what happened two nights ago, and how much it hurt. Again. I snap out of my thoughts and smile at the Asian boy.

“Um, hi. I’m Ch…Chester.“

_Damn it. Why did I have to stutter when I just met a new person?! I hope he’s nice…No, you idiot. He’ll see what a freak you are and won’t want to be your friend_.

_He’s nice_ , Mike thought. He did what he always did when he met someone new: he talked like there was no tomorrow, and by the time the day was over, they both had gained a new friend.

xxxxx

Chester was quickly accepted in Mike’s group of friends, although Brad was a little jealous at first. The boy who had been his best friend since first grade, Mike, was suddenly hanging out with another guy. Chester hadn’t talked much about himself, and nobody knew where he lived. Brad spent more time with Rob now, and they also hung out a lot as a group, but Mike and Chester were together literally all the time. Chester’s life had changed a lot in the three weeks he knew Mike, and even Steven noticed that Chester was a lot happier than in the entire time he had known him. He spent even more time away from their trailer, and Steven didn’t want to lose control over him. He despised the boy, and didn’t like to be around him much, except when he needed someone to take his anger and frustration out on. And although he was glad for every minute he was alone with a bottle of beer, it bothered him that the boy spent so much outside.

“Where’ve you been?” Steven barked from the couch in Chester’s direction when he came through the door.

“None of your business…”

“Yes, it is my business, and answer me when I ask you a question, boy.”

Chester knew that this was not the time to anger Steven, so he decided to answer, although he didn’t want Steven to know how happy he had been since he met Mike and his friends.

“I’ve been in the park with my friends.”

“You don’t have friends.”

“Yes, I do!”

“Who? Who would wanna spend their free time with a loser like you?”

“Mike, Brad and Rob. They’re in my class. I sit next to Mike, and he’s Japanese, well, half-Japanese. His dad is from Japan, his mom is American…and Brad and Rob are both Jewish, and Brad has a lot of hair, and it’s really curly, not like mine, and –“

“I didn’t ask you to tell me their whole family stories, boy.” Steven interrupted.

It was the first time Chester had real friends, and he liked talking about them. _Of course, Steven doesn’t wanna know anything about it, but then why the hell did he ask?!_ he thought.

“And did you say Japanese?! Jewish?! You will not spend a minute longer with these disgusting people! We don’t talk to foreigners, I thought I told you that!” Steven shouted.

“Disgusting? Why?”

“Because they’re not like us! You’ll come here everyday after school, and you won’t spend anymore time with those guys!”

“Or else, what?” Chester asked, his tone disrespectful and daring.

Steven got up from the couch, and Chester instinctively took a step back. Then another one. And another, until he was backed up against the wall. A strong hand balled into the front of Chester’s hoody, lifting him off the ground. Another hand was in his hair, forcing his head up. Struggling against Steven’s hold on him, Chester kicked his legs in the air, aiming for Steven’s knees, while he hit everything else he could reach with little fists.

“Hold the fuck still when I talk to you. And listen, you little shit!”

“You can’t tell me to stop seeing my friends! I don’t care what you say!”

“When they realize you’re just a poor little freak who lives in a trailer and is too stupid for school, they’ll stop hanging out with you, anyway. You’re nothing. A loser. You have no friends and you’re stupid.”

“I’m not a loser! For the first time, I have friends! And I’m not stupid!”

Chester was terrified. He was older now, but it still scared the hell out of him when Steven got angry. He pretended not to be scared, and covered up his fear by acting rebellious, but he knew Steven would hurt him if he didn’t behave.

“Don’t talk back to me like that, boy!”

“Or what? You’ll beat me?"

“Beating is the only thing that works with you, you disrespectful little son of a bitch!”

And right at that moment, Chester kicked Steven’s left knee as hard as he could. He let go of Chester, screaming, but got hold of him again as the pain subsided. Yanking at Chester’s hair, Steven forced him to look up at him, whispering in his ear:

“Do you remember what happened the last time you tried to fight me? Do you remember how you screamed? How you cried like a girl and how you couldn’t walk straight for a week? Do you?”

When Chester was too scared to answer right away, Steven slapped him hard across the face. “ANSWER ME!”

“Yes…I…I remember…” Chester whispered, tears streaming down his face.

“Good. Now get out of here before I really hurt you!”

With that, the door to Chester’s room was opened and he was pushed inside, tripping and falling hard on his knees.

“No dinner for you tonight” was the last thing he heard before he made his way from the floor to his bed, wrapping the blanket around himself. There had been many nights of going to bed without dinner lately, so Chester had a stack of food that didn’t need to be in the fridge, hidden in a box under his bed. Candy, cereal, peanutbutter, water, warm juice and even some toast. Also, plastic cutlery and plates.

_Can’t I just run away?_ he thought for the thousandth time. _Where would I go? Would Mike’s parents take me in? I bet they are nice…That reminds me: I’m invited to his house next Monday after school. I hope I don’t make a bad first impression, I don’t want them to think I’m some freak from the trailer park…_

As he sat in bed, eating dry cereal with warm orange juice, he remembered all the times he had been alone as a kid; he had been alone with his fear of the dark, alone with the monsters under the bed, and alone with his very real fear: the man he lived with. Other kids had parents who cared for them, Chester had no one. He had accomplished everything school related on his own, he had taught himself to cook simple meals when Steven wasn’t at home, which happened occasionally, and he had packed a backpack with the essentials, in case he decided to run from home. The backpack even contained his teddy bear, which he thought he was too old for now, but that bear had always been the only comfort when he was locked up in his room after a punishment. He rummaged through his backpack and found the item he’d been looking for. Mike’s Sony Walkman that he had lent to him over the weekend. Mike had gotten it for his last birthday; it was his proudest possession, and still, he had lent it to Chester. Also, a bunch of cassette tapes to listen to. Chester closed his eyes, just listening to music, and drifted into an entire different world.

xxxxx

Monday came quickly, and Mike, Brad and Chester were walking to Mike’s parents’ house after school. Chester had decided not to tell Steven anything about what he did anymore. It would just get him in trouble. When they passed Brad’s house, which was on the way to Mike’s, they said their goodbye and walked a few more minutes before they arrived.

“And remember, you can’t swear at my house like you do at school. My dad really hates swearing and gets mad at me when I accidently do it at home.”

“I’ll give my best.” Chester replied with a cheeky grin, when in fact, he had been thinking about meeting Mike’s family all day, and he was incredibly anxious. He had finally told Mike, and only Mike, where and with whom he lived, and he prayed that Mike’s parents wouldn’t ask too many questions.

xxxxx

We’re sitting at the dinner table in this big ass house where only three people live. It’s a little big for three, and everything is clean and shiny and expensive, and I feel completely out of place. But still, it’s cozy and warm in here; a real home. We’re sitting here and wait for Mike’s mom to serve dinner. She’s setting the table, and – shit, what’s that? God, no, they’re eating with chopsticks! How do I do that? I’ve never done that before! What if I do something wrong? I know I’m a walking accident, what if I break a plate or something? And if they eat with chopsticks, will the food be Japanese? I don’t know what that tastes like, what if I don’t like it? Mike’s parents are nice; they won’t yell if I break anything, and they won’t laugh if I’m having trouble with the chopsticks…right? His dad doesn’t appear as strict as he described him. He’s got a warm smile and he doesn’t seem to be the kind of person who beats up people. That’s nice… oh, the food is coming!

xxxxx

_The food looks typically Japanese, but it’s fucking delicious_ , Chester thought as he struggled with the chopsticks.

“Let me help you, Chester”, Mike’s dad said.

“Thank you, sir.” Chester replied in his best “polite boy” voice.

Mike was shocked. How was it possible for Chester to be the personification of disrespect at school, but here, he was the complete opposite?

_Yes sir, no sir, thank sir, you’re welcome, please? Who is this guy?_ Mike thought, but in fact, he was thankful for it, because this way, his parents wouldn’t notice that Chester lived in a trailer park.

Chester quickly learned to eat with chopsticks, and it was one of the few things he was proud of, but when he was almost finished with his plate, a piece of some vegetable escaped the chopsticks.

“Fucking hell” he muttered under his breath. He’d been so focused on the chopsticks that he had forgotten about the no-curse words-rule.

“We do not curse in this house, Chester.” Mike’s dad scolded lightly.

“Um, sorry, sir…it won’t happen again…” he answered quietly, blushing.

“Haha! I told you!” Mike burst out, still chewing on rice and vegetables with a lot of sauce.

“And I though that _I_ told _you_ that we don’t speak with our mouths full, Michael.”

Now it was Chester’s turn to laugh, smirking at his friend.

_They are all so nice here,_ Chester thought. _Nobody gets angry and starts yelling for no reason_.

“So, Chester, where do you live?” Mike’s mom asked, looking genuinely interested.

There was a moment of silence and a glance between Chester and Mike.

“Inthetrailerpark” he mumbled as quickly as possible.

“In the what?”

“The…trailer park.” he whispered, staring down at his now empty plate.

“Oh, Chester, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“It’s not?” he asked, looking up at her.

“Of course not.”

xxxxx

Since that day, Chester had dinner with the Shinodas every day after school. He spent a lot of time at their house and was allowed to call Mike’s parents by their first names. He spent the afternoons and evenings hanging out with Mike, Brad and Rob. Of course, only after they had done their homework, as Mike’s parents insisted. Mike’s mom never sent Chester home before he had eaten a whole plate of food, always with dessert. She insisted he was too skinny and needed proper food. Chester had evaded all further questions about his living situation, although Mike’s parents always asked for more information. They couldn’t believe that such a nice little boy preferred being at another house than with his parents or whomever he lived with. It was now a week before Thanksgiving, and Chester had the urge to tell Mike’s parents about the situation with Steven. He was currently trying to cover up a huge dark bruise on his collar bone with an oversized hoody, and it had just gotten too much lately. He needed to tell them. Tell them everything. It was the only way to escape Steven.

xxxxx

**Thanks for reading.**


	5. Chapter 5

It’s Saturday evening, and I’m locked in my room again. This time, I locked myself in the room, because when I came home from Mike’s parents’ house an hour ago, Steven was drunk. He was out of his mind, and I’m scared of him. I knew that if I made the slightest mistake, he would punish me again. Yesterday I accidently broke a glass and spilled soda all over our crappy white carpet. He hit me with his belt so hard that Mike asked me today why I couldn’t sit still at school. Like I ever do that, anyway…but he notices everything.

“You get hit with a belt?” he asked me this morning when I told him about yesterday. He seemed completely shocked.

“You don’t?”

“Of course not! Dad would never do that to me! You’ve gotta tell someone!”

“But it’s embarrassing…I don’t want people to know about it…” I had to tell him, even if I didn’t really want to.

He wouldn’t stop asking otherwise. Later at PE class, I was terrified someone would notice the bruises on the back of my thighs, but luckily, my shorts covered them. I’m so glad that Mike’s parents let me have dinner with them every day, but today, I was in pain the whole time. Mike’s dad is really strict about table manners and that kinda stuff, so I didn’t dare to squirm on my chair like I did at school all day.

Steven always calls me a disrespectful brat, but that’s not true. I don’t respect him, and I don’t respect all of my teachers, but I respect Mike’s parents more than everyone else. When they tell me to do something, I do it; and when Mike and I screw up something, we both get scolded equally. I listen to them like I’ve never listened to anyone else. There’s no difference in the way they treat Mike and me. It’s almost as if we were brothers. I basically almost live there, anyway. When Mike and I are at Brad’s or Rob’s house, we pray with them before we eat, because that’s normal in their families. So we sit there and pray with them, although we’re not religious. Mike said we want to respect our friends and their parents, and even though I thought that it was weird and stupid at first, I secretly like it by now. It helps the family get together at the table and have a nice time. Of course, I would never tell anyone that I see it that way…

I still haven’t told Mike’s parents about Steven and what he does to me. Thanksgiving is next Thursday, and I don’t wanna spend it with him. We never celebrate anything, not even Christmas. I would love to celebrate Thanksgiving and Christmas with Mike and his family, but that means I have to tell them the truth about Steven…I want to tell them, but I can’t.

xxxxx

Last Wednesday after school, Mike and I went to the nearby construction site, although his parents forbid us to go there. In fact, they told us not to go there under any circumstances, but I couldn’t help it. I talked Mike into it. Brad and Rob were too scared to join us, so we went alone. It’s a magnet for kids, because a) it’s near the school and everyone that lives there can just pass it on their way home, and b) everyone is forbidden to play there. They say it’s dangerous…well, even the sign at the entrance says so, but we don’t care. When there are no workers, which is basically all of the time, we sneak in and play there. We stay there for exactly one hour and then go to Mike’s parents’ house for dinner. Now it’s Monday and we’ve come here almost every day. We’re currently climbing a building crane, which I admit is kinda risky, but Mike and I have a bet on who could climb faster. When we were almost at the top, I heard someone screaming:

“Get down there! Both of you! What do you think you’re doing?!”

I know that voice. Fuck. It’s Mike’s mom. We must have forgotten to check the time and stayed longer than usually so she came looking for us. I look at Mike, who is frozen in shock. He glances at the digital watch on his wrist and shows it to me. We’re over thirty minutes late…She’s yelling something I can’t make out, and we climb down as fast as we can. A few minutes later, we jump on the ground. She runs towards us, pulling both of us in a hug.

xxxxx

“What were you thinking? I was so worried! You didn’t come home, and I waited and waited…I called Bradford’s parents…then Robert’s parents…they didn’t know where you were! I almost called the police!” Mrs. Shinoda said, still holding the boys in a tight hug. “I even called the school’s secretary to check if you had already left or if one of you were in detention again, like last week.” she added with a glance at Chester, who avoided eye contact, staring down at his shoes.

He didn’t notice the humor in her voice, lost in his own thoughts. _She’s gonna think I’m a bad influence. She won’t allow me into her home again and probably tell Mike not to hang out with me anymore. I AM a bad influence. Mike’s been swearing a lot more in the last few weeks. He has spent less time on homework and more time on fun. The other guys, too. But Mike isn’t the perfect little angel his parents think he is. He skipped his piano lesson last week to go to the skate park with me. Sometimes he’s the one who talks me into shit, too. It’s not always me who starts it. You idiot. You’re exactly like Steven says. A waste of space. You don’t deserve friends. And you don’t deserve Mike’s parents…_

“Chester? I’m talking to you!” Mike’s mother said. “Hu? Sorry, I…I was um…”

“Spacing out again?” she asked worried. He nodded, biting his lips and looking down.

“You could have been hurt, both of you. We’re driving home now, and Dad will have a little talk with you after I told him. I guess he came home a few minutes ago.” she said, glancing from Mike to Chester and back.

Mrs. Shinoda saw Chester as a second son. She had always wanted two sons, but the first pregnancy had been so stressful that they had never had a second child. It was weird that Chester never talked about his parents, or why he preferred being at her house rather than with his parents. There had to be something wrong, but the boy just wouldn’t talk about it. _What if he is homeless?_ She was sure Mike knew something, but he didn’t tell her anything, either. A few days ago, she had been in the kitchen, preparing dinner while she watched Mike and Chester playing video games in the living room, sitting on the floor. That damn Nintendo thing Mike had gotten last Christmas tore them away from their homework, but she allowed them to play an hour every day. They had to establish the one hour a day rule a few months ago, and there had been a big tantrum on Mike’s side, but by now, he had accepted it. So, while she watched the boys play, a weird thought had crossed her mind. _If they didn’t look like complete opposites, one could think they were brothers._ When they arrived home after a short car ride, they were greeted by Mr. Shinoda.

“Hi, Honey, where have you been? I came home, and no one was here.”

"Sit down, Muto, Mike and Chester have something to tell you.”

“What?! You said _you_ were gonna tell him!” Mike shouted, while Chester cursed under his breath, which of course didn’t go unnoticed.

“Don’t you yell at your mother, Michael. And watch your language, Chester. We talked about this.” Mr. Shinoda said before kissing his wife.

After everyone had left their shoes and coats by the door, Donna left her husband and the boys alone in the living room. _I was so worried about them earlier…I hope they learn from their mistakes and don’t ever go back to that construction site. Who knows what could have happened. It’s good to let them explain themselves, that will teach them to be responsible for their actions._

In the living room, the drama was slowly unfolding. Mike and Chester sat on the couch opposite Mr. Shinoda, who took a seat in the armchair. Mike knew this situation all too well, and the last time had just been two weeks ago.

xxxxx

“So, what happened?” Mike’s dad asks us, and I’ve never felt so uncomfortable in my whole life.

I don’t wanna disappoint Mike’s parents, and I can’t lie to them… Neither of us says anything, we both wait for the other to start talking.

“We, um…we went to the construction site…the one at the school…” I confess, and Mike looks at me like I’m some kind of an alien.

I see Mike’s dad getting angry. Oh boy, no. I know he never gets as angry as Steven, and he never slaps Mike in the face like Steven does to me, but I know that Mike gets spanked when he screws up badly. He also never yells at us, he lectures. Sometimes he raises his voice a little, but that’s all.

“What? Was this the first time?”

“No, it wasn’t…We’re very sorry, dad.” Mike says, and I can hear he’s close to tears, but he doesn’t wanna cry in front of me.

“How many times were there?” Mr. Shinoda asks.

“Almost every day since last Wednesday.” Mike answers quietly.

Mike’s dad takes a deep breath as if he’s trying to calm himself down.

“And, Michael, did I, or did I not forbid you to go there under any circumstances?”

“Um…uh…y…yes.”

_Wow_ , I think, _Steven would have smacked me across the room if I had stuttered like this at a simple yes or no question._

“And why is it that your mother looks so scared? What happened exactly?”

Mike and I look at each other before I decide to answer.

“We…um…we climbed on a building crane…it…it was kind of a challenge who could climb faster and higher…” I admit hesitantly.

“You did _what_?!” he explodes, raising his voice, and I flinch when he gets up from the armchair.

He sits down again a moment later, muttering something in Japanese to himself. “Whose idea was that?”

“M…mine.” I stutter. “I…I kinda talked Mike into it…”

“That’s not true”, he interrupts, “I wanted to do it, too. I would have done it anyway…”

Mr. Shinoda looks at both of us, and I think he’s gonna start yelling, but he doesn’t.

“Kenji”, he starts, scolding Mike in Japanese while holding his chin in one hand so he can’t look away. I’ve heard them talk like this in Japanese only once before, and they only do it when it’s serious. His voice is so strict that I want the ground to open up and swallow Mike and me… _He’s working so hard, and still hast time for his family,_ I think. _I know that Mike thinks that there is nothing more embarrassing than being scolded in front of a friend, but I don’t see it that way. I wish I had parents that cared about me like Mike’s parents care about him…_

Suddenly, the attention has shifted to me, and I almost missed it because I was distracted again.

“And Chester,” Mike’s dad begins.

I try to sink deeper into my usual spot on the couch.

“You will never go to this construction site again, do I make myself clear?”

I nod.

“You could have been hurt. Both of you. It’s dangerous, and I want neither you nor Michael to be put in danger. You’re lucky you didn’t fall while climbing. I don’t care if you’re good at that, it was careless and irresponsible. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” I whisper.

He’s right, it was careless…He allows me to call him Muto, but in situations like this I still call him sir.

“And can you look at me when I talk to you?” he asks, but I can’t.

I shake my head, tears almost falling. He puts a hand under my chin to make me look at him, just like with Mike earlier. It’s not like when Steven does that, it doesn’t hurt, and I somehow manage to meet his eyes. He looks angry, but also concerned, and I hear myself say:

“I’m…I’m really sorry…it won’t happen again. I promise.”

“Alright.” he says, “You will both find a corner and stand there, facing the wall. You have ten minutes to think about what you have done and what could have happened. Now.”

xxxxx

Dinner went by quietly and quickly, but standing in the corner had felt like an eternity to the boys.

“It’s late, I’ll drive you home, Chester. It’s cold and you shouldn’t walk home in the dark.” Mr. Shinoda said after dinner.

Chester panicked. He didn’t want anyone to see their trailer, and he certainly didn’t want Steven to question why he was driven home in an expensive Mercedes.

“No, no…that’s ok, I can walk.”

“I insist. I’ll call them and explain why it’s gotten so late today-”

“NO!” Chester quickly interrupted. ”I…I mean that’s not necessary…my…uh…they aren’t at home tonight anyway. No need to call anyone. “

“Yeah, just leave him alone, dad.” Mike added, earning a glare from everyone at the table.

“Chester. You know that one of the rules in this house is that you do not lie to us. And right now, I can see that you’re lying. What’s going on at home? Hm? You can tell us.” Mr. Shinoda said in a calming voice.

“N...no, I can’t” Chester mumbled, fidgeting with his hands.

_I can’t do this now. I wanted to tell them, but after the stunt me and Mike pulled today, they’ll just send me back to the trailer park and never talk to me again…_

“You can’t make him tell you, dad! It’s none of your fucking business!” Mike yelled.

He was scared that his friend’s secret would come out, not realizing that he made everything worse.

_What the hell?! Mike never says ‘fuck’ at home…_ Chester thought, kicking him under the table.

“Michael! Language.” Mrs. Shinoda said, and her husband added:

“Anymore of this, and I will pull you over my knee right here and now, Michael.”

To make matters worse, Chester smirking at Mike drew the attention back to him, and he was asked again what was wrong at home.

_This is it. I’ll have to tell them about Steven. There’s no way out._

But right before Chester could say anything, Mike made another attempt to protect him from his parents’ interrogation.

“I’ve had it with you today, Michael! This is the final warning! You know better than to yell, and you know better than to be this disrespectful. Now stop it or deal with the consequences.”

Mike nodded, but not without messing up once again.

“As long as it’s not with your belt…” he said more to himself than to anyone else.

“Excuse me?! You know I would never do that, son. Why would you think I’d hit you with my belt?”

“Well…uh…Chester said - “

“God dammit, Mike! I told you not to say anything! You promised!” Chester snapped, getting up and pushing back his chair so fast that it bumped against the wall loudly and fell to the floor.

There was never this much trouble and drama in the Shinoda household. It was a place of love and family, of warmth and peace. It was also a place where rules had to be obeyed and consequences had to be accepted, but it had never been a place of yelling and chair-throwing. Chester was already on his way to the door, because running was the only way out he saw in this situation, when he heard Mrs. Shinoda’s voice behind him.

“Hey, get back here! We’re not done, Chester. Come here, please.”

He froze on the spot, and a moment later, they were all sitting on the couch in the living room. Chester was seated between Mrs. Shinoda and Mike, whereas Mr. Shinoda sat on his son’s other side.

“Well, you can tell us, Chester. What’s happening at home?”


	6. Chapter 6

And that was when everything came crashing down on Chester. The abuse by Steven, the loss of his mother, the years of being alone, and the feeling that he didn’t deserve the love and attention Mike’s family was giving him. Suddenly, he burst into tears, and Mrs. Shinoda wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close.

“Shhh, Chester. Shh, calm down. It’s ok. You can tell me about your home.” she said.

‘Get yourself together, you little pussy. Boys don’t cry’ he heard Steven’s voice in his head.

“I…I don’t have a home” he began. “The only place I feel safe is here…”

“What about your parents?” Mrs. Shinoda asked carefully, although she suspected something.

“Mom is…she…she’s dead. She took some drugs and…she died when I was s...six.” Chester cried, but he knew he had to tell the whole story.

One second later, he spilled everything. “And…and now I live with Steven…he’s my step dad. But I don’t call him dad. I hate him, and he…he hates me, too.”

“Why do you hate him? What does he do?”

“He beats me when I don’t behave. Actually, he beats me every time he’s angry…or when I do something wrong. Like when I accidently break a plate or when I stutter…then he slaps me across the face. But he…he usually hits me with his belt. He also yells at me a lot…and he’s racist…he always talks bad about foreigners and insults my friends…and he’s always drunk.” he finished, leaving out the rape on purpose, because he didn’t want to think about it.

“And what about your dad?” Mr. Shinoda asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

It was unbelievable what this poor boy had to go through apparently every day.

“I…I never knew him. I’ve always lived with Steven, and after Mom d…died, it got even worse with him…” Chester told them, flinching when Mrs. Shinoda squeezed his upper arm lightly in an attempt to comfort him.

“Ow!” he said, almost jumping from the couch.

“What is it?” she asked, having a terrible suspicion.

“Nothing.”

“You can tell me, you know? Muto and I…we won’t yell at you or anything like this, you don’t need to hide things from us.”

Chester bit his lips, fidgeting with his fingers in his lap. If he wanted to tell them about Steven, he had to tell them everything. And they would notice the bruises anyway, sooner or later.

“I...I don’t really wanna talk about it, but I can…I can show you what he does.” he said, lifting his hoody over his head and putting it on the couch table in front of him.

Mr. and Mrs. Shinoda sat on the couch in shock as they saw the blue and green shaded spots all over Chester’s arms. They were bruised in the shape of handprints; on his upper arms, his wrists, and his shoulders. It was horrible. Mike, having seen them already in PE class, sat next to his friend in silence. Chester was fidgeting with the hem of his red and black striped t-shirt, when Mr. Shinoda noticed more dark bruises on his son’s best friend.

_So this is why he always wears those big hoodies…to hide what this bastard does to him,_ Mrs. Shinoda thought.

On a thin line of skin visible between Chester’s t-shirt and his jeans, there was another hand-shaped bruise right on his hip, and Mr. Shinoda felt like he had to throw up. Just thinking about how he had gotten those bruises was too much.

“Chester…do you want to tell me how you got those?” he asked in the calmest voice he could manage.

As soon as Chester saw what Mr. Shinoda was talking about, he frantically pulled his t-shirt over his hips, shaking his head and blinking back more tears.

“Can I, um, put my hoody back on, please?” he asked quietly.

“Oh, of course, pumpkin” Mrs. Shinoda said, handing it back to him.

He quickly put it back on, and immediately felt better. _Ok, you can tell them now. It’s safe,_ he thought. “Steven…he, um…when the belt is not enough for him, then he…he comes to my room and, um, you know, kinda…touches me.” he admitted hesitantly, hugging his knees that were drawn up to his chest. “It hurts and he…he holds me down when I try to struggle against him.”

Once he had started telling them about it, he couldn’t stop. “He’s done it for the first time when I was like…seven. And now it happens every few weeks, but sometimes more than once in a week, when he’s really, really mad at me…”

Now it was Mrs. Shinoda’s turn to blink back tears. She couldn’t believe what Chester was telling them.

“And…Chester…when was the last time he…”, she almost couldn’t say it, “he…raped you?”

“Two days ago.” he whispered, staring at his knees in front of him. His mind wandered to last Saturday, and soon, he was spacing out, lost in his thoughts.

_“There you are!” Steven shouted when Chester came through the door._

_It was Saturday evening, and it was already dark outside. He had been outside with Mike, Brad and Rob all day, and so far, that day had been great. As soon as Chester entered the trailer, kicking his sneakers off and heard Steven’s voice, he knew he was drunk. He needed to be careful tonight. It would be best if he just went to bed directly to avoid Steven._ Man, he was already drunk yesterday, why did he have to drink again tonight? _Chester thought._

_His plan to disappear quietly into the bathroom to take a shower before bed was destroyed when Steven yelled:_

_“Hey! I was talking to you, boy! Where’ve you been all day? Hanging out with that fucking Jap again?”_

_“It’s none of your business what I do…and don’t call him that!”_

_“I call your loser-friends whatever the hell I want! Get over here, boy.”_

_“No.”_

_“I said get your ass over here!”_

_“No!” Chester said again, his voice already shaking because he knew what was about to happen._

_It had been two weeks since the last time, and Chester was sure that Steven needed him again after such a long time. Ignoring Steven’s order to come to the couch, he fled to the bathroom, quickly trying to lock the door behind him, but it was too late. Steven was opening the door, grabbing Chester by his left upper arm and dragging him to the couch. Despite Chester’s struggling and kicking, he didn’t stand a chance against Steven. He could do nothing to defend himself when Steven yanked his hoody and t-shirt off him and pushed him down onto the couch. In seconds, his pants were down around his ankles, and he felt Steven’s hands on him, one on his back to press him into the couch, and the other bruising his hip, and then-_

“Chester! Are you with us?” Mrs. Shinoda’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Huh? What? I…I was just, um…thinking…sorry.” he mumbled, looking up at her.

Pulling him in another hug, she said:

“You will never have to go there again, I promise.” she said. “At least not alone. Muto will go to the trailer park with you tomorrow to get your belongings. If you want to, you can come live with us. We’ve got room, and you’re always welcome here.”

It was a decision she had just made a second ago, but she knew her husband would agree with her. And she was sure that Mike would be so excited to live with his best friend.

“Really?” he asked. “You’d do that?”

The excitement was obvious in his voice. All tears were gone, and his eyes sparkled with hope. Mr. and Mrs. Shinoda exchanged a look over Chester’s and Mike’s heads, and the decision was made.

“You know…all I wanted to ask was if I could spend Thanksgiving with you.” he said as he hugged Mike’s mom.

The atmosphere in the living room was lifted even more as everyone laughed together, and so, even if it was way past their bedtime, Mike and Chester spent hours talking about their new life as brothers. And in their imagination, they already remodeled the unused room next to Mike’s.

xxxxx

Meanwhile, Mike’s parents stood in the living room in front of the glass door that led to the garden, discussing their future with another child in the house.

“I don’t even want to think about the horrors Chester must have seen as a child, Muto. We need to help him.”

“I know, Donna, I know…But it won’t be easy. Perhaps he needs therapy after what has happened to him? Did you see those bruises? They were every color…some newer, some older, who knows what else that man has done to him…” he said, wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist as they both looked through the glass door into the dark garden. After a long silence, he added: “I’ll leave work earlier tomorrow and pick the boys up from school. I’ll take them out for pizza, drop Michael off at home, and drive to the trailer park with Chester. I don’t want Michael to go near this man.”

“Yes, that’s for the best. We will also have to speak to a judge because of the custody. There is no way I will send Chester back there.” she said.

“I’m sure he will grant us temporary custody before the…” he replied, looking at his wife who was thinking exactly the same.

The word he was looking for was adoption. It was all happening so fast; one day they were a family of three, and the next, they had decided to adopt a boy they had known only for a few months. A boy who spent so much time at their house, because it was the first and only place he felt home.

“Did you see how excited they both were earlier? Something tells me that Michael has always wanted a brother. It was so adorable…We will give Chester a good home.”

“We will, honey. Even if this is the most spontaneous thing I have done in a long time.” Mr. Shinoda said, grinning at his wife.

“In a long time? Muto, this is the most spontaneous thing you have done ever since I’ve known you!” she laughed.

“But we will have to reinforce the rules in this house. Just because everything is fun and exciting right now, we can’t let anything get out of control when Chester moves in. He needs rules, he needs discipline, he needs someone to show him what’s wrong and what’s right, and he needs - “

“What he needs, Muto, is a family that loves and supports him. I know you’re conservative at times, but not everything in life is about rules. He has been through so much pain already, and he’s just a kid. Nothing will get out of control, let’s just focus on now. Calm down and forget about the rules for once in your life, darling.” she said, kissing her husband softly.

Donna knew that her husband had been raised by very strict, but loving parents, and that he thought this was the only way to raise his own son. She also knew that sometimes, she had to intervene and remind him that there were other approaches to parenting. He sighed, leaning his head against hers.

“You’re right, honey. It’s just going so fast right now.”

“Let’s just go to bed, tomorrow will be another long day.”

xxxxx 

Today’s the day. Mike’s dad has picked us up from school and we had pizza. It was fun, but I’ve been really anxious all day. We’re in Muto’s car right now – I still have to get used to calling him that – driving to the trailer park. Mike was dropped off at home, because his parents say he shouldn’t go near Steven, and I agree. I can’t wait to see Steven’s face when Muto tells him that I’m not going to come back to the trailer. Finally! At the same time, I don’t want them to meet, because then Muto will see where I spent most of my life before I met Mike. Fuck, we’re here. Why can’t this car ride take a few minutes longer? I don’t wanna see Steven today. I’m so nervous that the key to the trailer falls out of my hand.

“Hey, Chester. No reason to be nervous. It’s all going to be fine.” Muto says when I pick up the key and turn it in the lock with shaking hands.

“About time, boy! Where the fuck have you been?” Steven’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

“I won’t stay long.” I mutter quietly, trying to ignore the look on Muto’s face when he heard Steven swear at me.

And that’s when Steven decides to leave the couch and turn around. “Who the fuck are you? What do you do in my house?” he asks Muto.

I glance around the room, and suddenly, I feel myself blush. The state of this room is worse than a pigsty, and nothing like the Shinoda’s house, which is always clean and cozy.

“My name is Muto Shinoda, and I am here to take Chester away from this place. He will come live with my family, and there is nothing you can do about it. I also let you know politely that I disapprove of your tone towards him.”

Oh boy. Leave it to Mr. Shinoda to ‘disapprove of Steven’s tone’…But no, I can’t enjoy this too much, I gotta go to my room and pack. I’m already on the way to my room, when I hear Steven say:

“I don’t give a fuck what you say. Leave my house this second, you fucking immigrant!”

I quickly take the emergency backpack I packed months ago, and stuff more clothes and my school books inside. I take another bag and fill it with the stash of candy I’ve hidden under my bed. Also, the photo album of the time mom was still with me, and the last thing I take before I leave is the only picture that’s been hanging on my wall. It’s the first picture of Mike, Brad, Rob and me all together that’s ever been taken. Brad’s mom took it. It shows us hanging out at the skate park, making stupid faces for the camera. That was the first day I realized I had real friends. I leave my room with two packed bags. I’ve decided to ignore the yelling in the other room, until I hear Steven again.

“And where do you think you’re going, boy? I didn’t give you permission to leave with this immigrant!”

“I don’t care. I’m leaving. Bye.” I mumble as I make my way back to Muto.

For a second time seems to stand still. I look from Steven to Muto and back. Steven is in his usual nasty sweat pants and an even nastier t-shirt, while Muto is in his work clothes, a suit that looks more expensive than the rent for our trailer for at least three months. What if they get tired of me after a few weeks? What if they want to return me to the trailer park? I’m not worth it. I’m not worth the attention they’re giving me, I’m not worth the time Mike spends on helping me with math, I’m not worth his friendship, not worth being allowed in his family…

“Come on, Chester. Let’s go.” Muto says, and I realize I’ve been spacing out again. That happens to me a lot lately…

“Also, you should expect a visit from the police during the next few days.” he informs Steven.

It’s true. Muto told Mike and me today that he has spoken to a judge, who’s a friend of him, about custody for me, and that Steven will most likely go to jail for what he did to me.

“He won’t leave with you! He’s mine!” Steven yells as he throws a half empty bottle of beer in our direction.

Suddenly, everything happens at the same time. The bottle misses us and bursts into a hundred pieces on the wall, a piece of broken glass grazes my cheek, I feel Steven’s hand slap my other cheek, I hear Steven yelling, I hear Muto yelling, and then they are both on the floor, wrestling. I can’t believe my eyes. I run to the phone and call 911.


	7. Chapter 7

“911, what’s your emergency?”

The 911 dispatcher was confronted with a boy telling about a situation at home and that he needed help. He sounded about ten or eleven years old, maybe twelve, and he was obviously panicking. After he had told her his address, she needed to get more information out of him.

“Shh, can you tell me your name?”

“Chester Bennington!”

“Ok, Chester, calm down, help is on the way. What exactly is happening? Are you alone or is another adult with you?”

“I’m…I’m alone here, but my step dad and my…uh…other dad are fighting by the door. My step dad threw a bottle and hit me, and I…I have a piece of glass stuck in my cheek. I saw on TV that you’re not supposed to get it out yourself, and…oh god…the police need to come!”

“Slow down, they will be there soon. Can you stay on the phone with me until they’ve arrived?”

“Yeah, ok…I’m scared…I’m so scared!” he sobbed.

“It’s all going to be fine. Just stay on the phone. What did you mean when you said ‘other dad’? Your real dad?”

“Uh, no. He’s…he’s gonna adopt me, and I’ll live with his family. But my step dad attacked him, and…and now they’re fighting!”

There was the sound of a doorbell, and soon, the police kicked the door in. Chester slammed the phone down, standing between the table and the wall as two cops came in. They quickly separated Steven and Muto, and one of them got Chester out of the trailer.

“You called 911?” the officer asked.

“Y-Yes…”

“That was the right decision. You can be proud of yourself. The ambulance is going to take you to the hospital, so they can get that piece of glass out. Do you want anyone to go with you? We can call social services.”

“What? No! I…I want him to come with me!” he argued, pointing at Mr. Shinoda, who was waiting to talk to the other officer a few feet away.

Meanwhile, said officer put Steven in handcuffs and guided him to the police car.

"You little son of a bitch!” Steven yelled in Chester’s direction. “When I see you again, I’ll-“

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” Chester yelled back, his face wet with tears of anger.

_Why can’t Steven just leave me alone?_ he thought, ignoring both the police officer next to him and Mr. Shinoda who rushed to his side.

After Chester had explained the whole situation, not without a lot of screaming and stuttering after certain questions, the officer agreed to let them go to the hospital together. He called an ambulance, and while they waited, Chester glanced over at Steven sitting in the car again and again.

“What is it, Chester?” Mr. Shinoda asked, holding his bleeding and most likely broken nose. “Is everything alright?”

“He’s got pictures of me, you know?” he admitted quietly, looking down to the ground.

The cop standing close by immediately turned around. “What kind of pictures?”

He had gotten those weird vibes from the man they had arrested right away. He knew a child molester when he saw one.

“Uh...well, you know. _That_ kind of pictures…Sometimes after he…after he had, um, done it, and I couldn’t…like…get up, he t…took a picture. They’re in his bedroom, I guess.” Chester said, looking at Mr. Shinoda for support, who briefly explained to the officer everything that Chester had confessed yesterday evening.

He hadn’t thought that this creep would have actually taken pictures of what he did to Chester, but now that he thought about it, it was obvious. The ambulance arrived, taking them to the hospital. They had taken Chester’s packed bags with them so that they didn’t have to return to the trailer to get them later. As soon as they arrived, Mr. Shinoda called his wife to let her know what happened, and she drove to the hospital with Mike.

xxxxx

“Muto...I’m scared. I haven’t been to the hospital or any other doctor in a long time. Steven never cared about me enough to take me to a doctor when I was sick. He always said it was too expensive and I wasn’t worth it… Last winter I…I had the flu or something, and I couldn’t go to school for weeks. Steven just told me to get over it and not be a pussy.” Chester said, his legs nervously dangling from the medical couch he was sitting on.

Mr. Shinoda’s thoughts were racing. _Does that mean he never got any vaccinations? Maybe he’s got injuries that never fully healed…I think we need to get a full check up for him…And it’s only two days until Thanksgiving. All I wanted was to have a nice, peaceful holiday for my family. I’ll have to make sure that Steven rots in prison and never gets to see the light of day again._ The doctor came in, and Mr. Shinoda wrapped an arm around Chester, telling him to hold still while the doctor got the piece of glass out of his cheek with local anesthesia. As it turned out later, Mr. Shinoda’s nose wasn’t broken, but the blood stains on his 200-dollar shirt would never be washed out. He didn’t care, though. The most important thing right now was Chester. An hour later, his wife and son arrived at the hospital to take them home.

xxxxx

It’s finally Thursday. My first Thanksgiving with a real family. Donna has been preparing food since yesterday. Mike and I had to help a lot while Muto was at work, but I liked it. I’ve never had the kind of mom that bakes cookies and stuff. We made pumpkin pie, chocolate chip cookies, and Mike and I helped with the turkey. There are typical American and Japanese dishes, and Donna won’t have to cook for three days after today, because there will be so many leftovers. I can’t wait to have a turkey sandwich for breakfast tomorrow…

Mike’s grandparents, Donna’s parents, will come over at Christmas. At Thanksgiving, it’s only the four of us, but I like it that way. I wonder if I could just call them mom and dad, but maybe it’s a little too early for that…

While we eat, Muto tells us that his friend, the judge, will decide about the permanent custody and adoption in a few weeks, and that Muto’s job as a lawyer, Donna’s part time job and their stable financial situation will certainly allow them to speed up the adoption process, which usually takes forever. He also says that when Steven goes to trial, we, or I, might have to testify against him. That’s gonna be scary. I don’t want to talk about him anymore. I don’t even want to see him again, I just want to forget everything he’s done to me.

I know that my life is going to change a lot, now that I live here for real. There are rules in this house, as Muto always reminds us. Don’t lie, don’t swear, don’t yell. Have table manners or eat in your room. Don’t argue about bedtime. Listen to what your parents say. Always say please and thank you. Apologize when you’ve made a mistake. Have good grades at school and respect your teachers. And the most important rule: If you have a problem with anything, tell us so we can help.

Everything that I didn’t do when I lived in the trailer park.

Okay, I might have to work on ‘respect your teachers’, but the others, I can do. Well, most times. Mike and I also have a little trouble with ‘don’t argue about bedtime’, but I mostly obey Mike’s parents, because they saved me from Steven. In the four months that I have known Mike, and the three and a half that I have known his parents, my life already has changed.

After we’re done eating, Mike and I have to load the dishwasher, and the rest of the evening we play boardgames and talk about everything and anything. It’s amazing how peaceful today was, even when I laughed at Mike’s tantrum when he lost the boardgame, so we got in a little fight.

“Ohhh, Mike, you just can’t lose!” I say, laughing at him.

“That’s so not true!” he argues.

“Yes, it is!”

“It’s not!”

“It is!”

“Dammit, shut up about it!” he says, raising his voice and glaring at me when I continue.

He’s grinning at me, but he’s also angry. I can tell. But it’s true. Mike hates losing. You should have seen him last week when he argued with his mom about playing video games for more than an hour…

“Stop it now, both of you.” Muto interrupts us, and we immediately shut up. Although he is in full scolding dad mode, his voice is gentle.

“Michael, keep your voice down, it’s just a game. And Chester, stop teasing your brother.”

“Yes, dad.” We say hesitantly, but in unison, and at first, I don’t realize what just happened. Everyone is looking at me, and then I realize that I called him dad. _Oh my god. Should I have asked first? What if I’m not allowed to call him that because I’m not his real kid?_

“That…uh…that was okay, right?” I ask, biting my bottom lip, before I blurt out:”Can I call you mom and dad?”

Mike’s parents smile at me. That’s a good sign.

“Of course you can, Chester.” Donna - no, mom - says. I feel at home.

xxxxx One week later, Friday

“I know this isn’t going to be fun, but we have to go to the doctor today to get you checked up, ok?” Mr. Shinoda said during the ride to the hospital, looking at Chester in the passenger seat.

He was biting his nails anxiously, thinking back to Thanksgiving last week. It had felt so nice to finally live in a real family.

They were currently remodeling the spare room, and just like Mike, Chester had an ‘art wall’ in his bedroom. There was no furniture in the way, just a plain wall. Mikes wall was filled with pictures of those weird square headed creatures he loved to draw. Dozens of those drawings and paintings hung on the wall, next to other little doodles and paintings of everyday objects in his own style. Some of them were black and white, some were colorful. Mike told everyone at school he would be an artist when he grew up, and he was already developing his own comic style. Chester, on the other hand, wanted to fill his wall with those little notes he scribbled down all the time. Mrs. Shinoda said they were poems, Chester said they were song lyrics. There were a few drawings, too, and also a bunch of photos.

Now he was sitting in the doctor’s office with Mr. Shinoda, waiting to be examined, and he thought back to the day before yesterday. After the police had searched the trailer, they had found not only those photos Chester had told Mr. Shinoda about, but even Chester’s birth certificate and some early medical records. Mike had laughed all day about Chester’s middle name, Charles, and how british it sounded to him.

_“See? This is why I didn’t tell you my middle name!” Chester had said while they had helped Mrs. Shinoda paint two of the four walls in Chester’s new bedroom._

_She had left the room to get a soda for everyone, unaware of the banter going on in there._

_“When I first told you my middle name, you laughed at me, too!” Mike argued, pointing the paintbrush in his hand at Chester, dripping blue paint on his white t-shirt._

_“Because it sounded weird to me!”_

_Soon, Mike and Chester were attacking each other with paint brushes, and when Mrs. Shinoda came back into the room, they had paint all over themselves._

_“What are you two doing?” she had asked, but not in anger. She was rarely mad at them._ They are just being kids _, she had thought while looking at the two boys in front of her that were dripping paint on the thin plastic sheet protecting the wooden floor._

_“He started it!” Chester had defended himself, wiping paint off his glasses, making it only worse in the process._

_“No, he did!” Mike had said, scratching his head and unknowingly smearing paint in his hair_.

Just then, the doctor came into the room, snapping Chester out of his thoughts.

xxxxx

They had spent an eternity at the hospital, or at least it seemed like an eternity to Chester. The pediatrician had done a number of tests with him, he had been vaccinated, and the worst part had been when he had to undress so the bruises could be documented and checked out. They were fading, but some of them were still there, causing pain when he touched them.

“Do you want me to wait outside?” Mr. Shinoda had asked, sensing Chester’s discomfort.

“Uh, y-yes, please.” he had mumbled.

Five minutes later, Mr. Shinoda had returned, and before they were allowed to leave, the doctor had taken a sample of blood from Chester, who had already been eyeing the needle nervously.

_This huge ass needle from the vaccination was bad enough, and now they wanna poke me with one again? Damn, I wanna go home_...Chester had thought. _Muto says it’s for my own good, but I really hate going to the doctor. I want to leave. I don’t want him to stick this needle into my arm…no…no…get it away from me…I don’t want to…_

The needle came closer, and Chester turned his head, looking away from it. It hurt when it poked his skin, but he fought back the tears that had forced their way to his eyes. _I shouldn’t be such a baby when it comes to needles, but who can blame me? I haven’t been to a doctor since mom died…_

“If you’re in pain, Chester, or scared, you can cry, you know? It’s okay.” Mr. Shinoda had said.

Chester had told them that Steven had always claimed he wasn’t allowed to cry because he was a boy and boys shouldn’t cry. That it was weak, and shameful, and that it made him seem like a girl. Before he knew it, the pediatrician was finished, and a small band aid was placed on his arm.

“So, Mr. Shinoda”, the doctor began. “It seems that two of Chester’s ribs were broken a few years ago, as the x-ray shows. They’ve healed, but he hasn’t been to a doctor at the time. Otherwise, he is physically fine. I would suggest that he sees a speech therapist to cure the stutter, and later he should also see a psychiatrist to talk about what has happened in his former home.”

Before Mr. Shinoda could say anything, Chester interrupted.

“No! I don’t need a psychiatrist! I’m fine! I’m not crazy! I don’t want - “.

He was scared and tired after being in the hospital for hours today, and the prospect of having to talk about Steven with a stranger wasn’t helping.

“Nobody said you were, Chester. And it won’t be anytime soon, it might be a while until you’ll have to go there.” Mr. Shinoda explained in a calm voice.

“Fine…” Chester grumbled, not looking at him, but too tired to argue further.

“Is there anything else, Dr. Turner?”

“No, Sir. You can go home.”

xxxxx

After they arrived home, Chester spent the afternoon dozing on the couch in the living room, since he was tired from the vaccination. He had almost fallen asleep in the car, and could barely finish his cup of hot chocolate before he dozed off. He didn’t notice Mike working on a drawing, sitting at the other end of the couch, while Mr. and Mrs. Shinoda stood at their favorite spot at the glass door in front of the garden, talking about finding a speech therapist. He had finally found a family that cared about him.

xxxxx

**Thanks for reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

Mrs. Shinoda was sitting in the garden, it was a nice warm day in May, and she had just come home from her part-time job. The boys were still at school, but would be home later, and her husband would come home in the evening, so she took a little time for herself and sat down on the bench under the tree. She loved being there, and whenever she had time, she did some gardening. Watering the flowers, planting some new ones, and taking care of the vegetables she had planted there.

The last six months had been a rollercoaster of emotions. It was great to have Chester living with them, it seemed as if a brother was what had always been missing in Michael’s life. Together, they were absolute troublemakers. They didn’t fight much, like siblings usually do. It was the contrary, to be honest. Sometimes it seemed to her that Michael and Chester were actually one person. They did everything together, they were closer than people who were related by blood, and they understood each other without words. There was this silent, non-verbal communication going on between them, whenever it was too risky for them to talk, for example when they were at school and had been reprimanded by the teacher for their incessant chatter. Mrs. Shinoda had found out about this on the last parent teacher conference, and back at home, there had been one of many discussions about behavior at school.

She and her husband knew that nothing could separate their sons, and even at home, they noticed the inconspicuous glances and small hand movements Michael and Chester used to communicate with when one or both of them were in trouble again. Just last week, Mrs. Shinoda had found them deeply concentrated, reading a book together that Michael had lent from the city library, and she had later found out that they were teaching themselves sign language. ‘Just for fun’, as Chester had claimed…

She had a feeling that in case a teacher would separate them in class so that they couldn’t sit next to each other, they still wanted to have a way to communicate without the teacher noticing. There had been more than one occasion where they had received a letter or even a call from school regarding the fact that her sons apparently always had something to talk about, preferably after the teacher had told them repeatedly to be quiet. They had good grades though, even in Math, which Chester had always hated. Mrs. Shinoda knew that it still bugged Chester that Michael was an A student while he brought home Bs and Cs. Mr. and Mrs. Shinoda always told their sons that it didn’t matter if they got an A or a B on a test, but Chester still felt as if he wasn’t worth as much as Michael.

During the summer holidays, they would go on vacation for three weeks, and it would be Chester’s first vacation ever. Also, his first flight, and his first time being away from L.A. Mrs. Shinoda remembered the conversation between Michael and Chester she had heard a few days ago.

_“Hey, Mike?”_

_“Hu?”_

_“I can’t swim.”_

_“You can’t swim? I learned to swim when I was like…five, or so. But don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”_

_And that’s the story of how Chester learned to swim in under a week_ , she thought.

He was a happy kid, most of the times. He had been going to speech therapy, and the stutter was almost completely gone. What was gone as well were the dark bruises that Steven had left on Chester, and he and Michael spent carefree days outside with their friends from school.

However, the nights were a totally different topic. Chester could have the best day, but then, there were those nights when he woke up screaming, having nightmares of his former life with Steven. The first time he had had such a nightmare, Mrs. Shinoda had noticed that Chester still slept with the lamp on his bedside table switched on, and she had asked him about it the following morning. He had, of course, claimed that he just forgot to switch it off in the evening, but she knew he was lying. She knew that Chester had so many deep fears in him, psychological bruises that this monster he had lived with had left on him, and that she shouldn’t blame him for leaving a little light on at night. Some people were even afraid of the dark as adults, and if he needed the lamp to feel safe at night, then so be it.

Chester still had to learn to control his emotions, though. He wasn’t a difficult child, but he wasn’t an easy one, either, and oh boy, did he have a temper. There were a lot of emotions, feelings and insecurities inside of him that he had always been forced to push aside. Nobody had ever taught him to control his emotions, and he had been taught all his life that boys weren’t allowed to have or show their feelings. And Chester had many feelings. They could burst out of him at any moment. Happiness, sadness, anger.

Mrs. Shinoda knew that he was sometimes ashamed of how impulsive he could be. Michael was so much better at hiding his feelings. Well, except when it comes to losing at boardgames or arguing about the rules at home, she thought with a smile. Both her sons were impatient, which was contrary to the endless patience she had with them. Her husband, on the other hand, didn’t like it at all when his sons tested his patience. There were three warnings, and if they didn’t do as told by then, there were consequences.

She thought back to last Christmas, when her parents had come to visit, and how difficult it had been to explain to them why she and Muto had adopted a boy they had only known for a few months. She had called them a few weeks before Christmas and had told them everything about Chester and his old and new living situation, but her parents had a hard time accepting that you can love a child which is not your own. And Donna did love Chester just like her own. She and her husband made no difference between him and Michael. Donna’s parents were very sceptical at first, but after spending a whole week at their house during the holidays, they had understood why their daughter and her husband had adopted him.

xxxxx

Her precious hour of alone time came to an end when Michael and Chester came home from school. She left the garden and went into the house when she heard them all the way from the door, making as much noise as a herd of elephants trampling through the hallway, which wasn’t unusual for them.

“Mom?” Mike asked, and although she wasn’t at the door yet, she knew from his tone that something was up.

She was just about to ask, when she heard a dog barking.

“What’s going on?”

“Look what we found in a dumpster!” Chester shouted, holding a Labrador puppy in his arms.

“Can we keep him? Please?” Mike begged, looking at his mom in the same way he had looked at her as a child when he had wanted something. “Please, mommy?”

“Mommy?! You haven’t called me that since third grade, Michael.” she replied, amused by how they tried to convince her to keep the dog.

“We already named him! His name is Jason, isn’t he cute?” Chester asked as he hastily kicked his sneakers off to run into the kitchen and get a bowl of water for the puppy.

While Mrs. Shinoda watched her sons play with the dog, she contemplated whether to keep it or not. The boys would be devastated if they had to bring him to an animal shelter, and they had already named him, which meant they would never give him away willingly. “Alright”, she said. “I will talk to your father about this when he comes home, but if he says no, you’ll have to accept that, are we clear?”

“Fine” they both agreed, but she already knew that if her husband would say no, there would be the biggest argument they had had in months. And to be honest, she was almost sure Muto would agree to keep the dog. The boys had been asking them for months to get a pet and had promised they were old enough to take care of it on their own. She squatted down next to the dog that was greedily drinking the water Chester had given him, and petted him behind the ears. The boys were right, he was cute.

xxxxx

Later that evening when Mr. Shinoda came home, he was already looking forward to dinner and a hopefully quiet evening. He had had a long day at work, and all he wanted was the delicious food his wife cooked every day and the peaceful feeling of finally being at home. He wasn’t prepared at all for what was waiting at home. As soon as he came through the door, he heard the excited voices of Michael and Chester, and to his surprise, he also heard a dog. He left his shoes and coat at the door, entering the living room, where he found his sons sitting on the floor, playing with a puppy. Blinking a few times, he looked again, but the puppy was still there.

“Where did you get a dog?!” he asked, unprepared for the explosion of explanations that came.

“Hey, dad! We found a puppy in a dumpster!”

“In a fu…, uh, yeah, in a dumpster. Can you believe that? Who would throw a puppy away?”

“Can we keep him? Please?”

“Please, please, please?”

“We promise we’ll take care of him!”

“All on our own, we can do it!”

“And we already named him!”

“Yeah, this is Jason, and we won’t give him away anymore!”

“Isn’t he the cutest? Look at him!”

“We really wanna keep him, please?”

Mr. Shinoda looked from Chester to Mike and then to the dog that was happily running around between them. Just when he wanted to say something, his wife came into the living room to announce that dinner was ready, kissing him on the cheek.

“Hey, honey. I know this comes as a surprise, but your sons decided to keep this dog they found on their way home. I wanted to talk about it with you first, in case you didn’t want to.”

She knew that her husband usually wasn’t one for surprises, but she also knew that he had owned a dog when he was a child, and that he loved animals.

Muto thought about it for a second, and then agreed. He sat down on the floor, and immediately, their new puppy jumped right into his arms.

“Okay. We’ll keep him.” he agreed, watching Mike’s and Chester’s eyes light up as if it were Christmas. “Under one condition” he said, raising his right index finger to stress his point. “You will train him, and you will take care of him. You brought him home, so he’s your responsibility. But don’t you dare rescuing more animals, understood?” he asked with a smile.

His sons nodded, promising over and over again that they were responsible enough to have their own pet.

“We’ll go to the vet tomorrow. A puppy is like a baby, you have to take care of it at all times.” he reminded them.

“We’re not 5, dad. We can do it.” Mike said, looking at Chester for support, who nodded, cuddling the dog.

xxxxx

A month later, Muto had interesting news when he came home from work. He knew that Chester had been stressed out of his mind lately, because Steven’s trial came closer and closer, and so was his testimony against him. He had had trouble sleeping, and only their new dog seemed to be able to calm him down at night, sleeping at the end of his bed.

However, Muto didn’t really know how to address the topic, since it was something he wanted to keep his kids away from.

“So, you all know that the trial is approaching.” he said after dinner, carefully watching how Chester focused on the glass of water in his hands, staring right into it. “But it will not come to that now.” he continued, and suddenly all eyes were on him, “because I heard today that…that Steven was killed in prison by another inmate.”

xxxxx

**Thanks for reading.**


	9. Chapter 9

He’s dead? Gone? He can’t hurt me anymore? Never again? Does that mean I don’t have to testify against him in 28 days? I’ve counted down the days in my diary. Yes, I’m a boy who keeps a diary. Everyone says that diaries are just for girls, but I don’t care. Nobody knows about it except me and Mike. We know everything about each other. Every little secret. Over time, I’ve told him everything Steven has done to me, although his - our - parents think he should be protected from that kinda stuff. I don’t know how to feel.

My hands are shaking, and a second later, the inevitable happens; I’m somehow losing grip of the glass of water in my hands and it drops to the floor, spilling water and shards of glass all over the carpet under the table. It’s as if I don’t realize what’s happening around me. I hear Muto talk to me, telling me something about talking about how I feel and that crap, but I don’t really listen. I see Donna and Mike clean up the mess I created, and I’m ashamed of myself. Why can’t I just be normal? Why do I always have to act out like this? I wanna scream. I have to get out of here.

I quickly apologize for the glass on the carpet and then I’m out of the room. I find myself sitting with my back against the huge old tree in the garden, crying my eyes out. I need to break something. Anything. So, I grab some of the smaller twigs that fell from the tree during the last storm, and take my anger out on them. Now I’m punching the tree, slamming my left fist against it until the skin on my knuckles breaks. I’m swearing under my breath, using words that I would never dare to use in front of my parents, but right now, I can’t help myself. I don’t give a fuck that I’m bleeding, I need to get the anger out.

After a while, Jason the dog comes around the tree, sitting next to me. I’m exhausted from all the punching and I try to calm down, scratching my little puppy gently behind his fluffy ears. Playing with him always helps with my anxiety, and as he’s licking over my palm, I can’t help but laugh because it tickles so much. I don’t wanna laugh, but I do, although I’m still in such a pissy mood. I can’t describe my feelings, it’s all too much, and suddenly, I realize that I’m free from Steven. I’ve been living with the Shinodas for seven months now, but the memories of him are always with me. I can’t get them out of my head. I’ve been terrified of the day I had to testify against him, telling all those other people about him. At the same time, I was looking forward to the day, because what I had to say would send him to prison for a long time.

I’m feeling different now. Jason has really cheered me up, like so many other times before. I’m still sad, and angry, and happy and relieved. And really confused, but I’m petting my dog, and that calms me down. I’m careful to keep my injured left hand away from him and only use my other hand to pet him, although I can’t even hold a tooth brush with my right hand. _I can’t go back in yet_ , I think as I look at the glass door I left open on my way into the garden. _Great, I’ve thrown another fit, what will they think of me now? I can’t even keep my emotions under control…why was I even crying earlier? I guess I know why. I cried because I was relieved that I never had to see Steven again, and that he’s finally gone. I also cried because I was angry. Angry at myself, angry at him._

xxxxx

Meanwhile, Mr. Shinoda tried to hold Mike back from running towards Chester.

“Dad, let me go! Chaz is upset, I need to talk to him!” Mike said, trying to break free from his father’s strong, but gentle grip on his shoulders.

“He needs some space, son. Leave him alone for a few minutes. Mom will talk to him later, okay?”

“But – “

“No, Michael. You can talk to him when he has calmed down.”

“Shouldn’t he be happy? That guy is dead, and he doesn’t have to testify against him anymore. I don’t understand why he’s like this!”

“Let’s sit down, I’ll tell you why.” Mr. Shinoda said, and soon, they were both sitting on the couch, Mike glancing into the garden from time to time.

“You want to know why Chester can’t be happy about Steven’s death?” Mr. Shinoda asked.

Mike nodded.

“He is struggling between so many feelings. Relief, revenge, grief. That can be hard to handle for children, and even for adults. And you know how Chester gets when he’s upset like now. He’s sensitive. He’s embarrassed of his emotional outbursts.”

“I know, dad, but…it’s been getting better during the last weeks, right?”

“That’s right, Michael. But this is a special situation. Mom knows best how to talk to him.”

“Can I ask you something?"

“Sure, son. Anything.”

“Um…why did that other guy kill Steven? What do you think?”

It was the question Mr. Shinoda knew would come, and he knew he had to answer. He wanted to do everything in his power to shield his sons from the darker parts of the world out there, but he had a feeling Mike and Chester had talked about more than what Chester had told him and his wife, so there was no reason not to answer. He was always telling them that honesty was best, so now, he was the one that had to be honest.

“Well, in prison, there are certain inmates that the others respect more, and there are some that the others don’t respect at all, they despise them. The ones they respect are, for example con artists, because the other inmates think that those are smart. The ones that nobody respects are people like Steven.”

“Why?” Mike asked innocently, listening to his father’s explanations.

Mr. Shinoda hesitated. On the one hand, Mike knew about everything that had happened to Chester, and on the other, he didn’t want him to know more than what was necessary.

“Because people like him, child molesters, or people who…who have murdered children, are…well, nobody likes them. There’s actually a saying. ‘Everyone knows what happens to child molesters in prison’, and it’s true. Inmates usually talk about the reasons why they are imprisoned, but people like Steven hide it. They don’t want the others to know about it, for obvious reasons. If other inmates find out that someone…that someone did what Steven has done, they give them a hard time.” he explained, but he knew that Mike had further questions.

“So…do they always kill people like him when they find out?”

“Most times, yes. They try to make them pay for what they did to the kids. Sometimes they even – “ he said, stopping himself when he had almost said too much.

“They even what?” Mike asked.

Mr. Shinoda took a deep breath. Why did Michael always have so many questions?

“They…they do to them exactly what they did to the kids. They rape the offender, too, sometimes.” he said, wondering if he had been too honest.

Mike went quiet, thinking about everything his father had just told him. “I think that Steven deserved it.” he said out of the blue. “Chaz should be happy that Steven’s dead.”

Mr. Shinoda looked at his son, and even though he agreed, he still asked: “You think?”

“Sure, because he did bad things. He hurt Chaz, and I think he deserved it.” Mike said again.

“I want you to know that one should never be happy about a person’s death. Understood? But in this case, I agree with you. He did deserve it, but please don’t make Chester talk about it if he doesn’t want to, okay?”

“Okay, dad…” Mike mumbled before going upstairs.

_Now that went easier than expected,_ Mr. Shinoda thought. _He’s probably going to think about this for the rest of the day while he’s drawing something, but he’s old enough for these kinds of conversations. And they are inevitable with him and Chester talking about everything. If he has questions about any of this, I’ll answer them._

xxxxx

“Muto? Honey? I’ve been thinking and…I think it’s time for Chester to see a psychiatrist.”

“Yes, he should probably see someone. A professional. We can help him with his feelings and with his past, but he should see a therapist. Someone who specializes in children with traumatic experiences.” Mr. Shinoda agreed, taking his wife’s hand in his.

“But he’s not going to like the idea. You know how he’ll react, Muto.”

“I know, I know…” he replied, and they were both quiet for a while.

“So, who told you the news about Steven?” she interrupted the silence.

“You know my friend Hahn? The police officer? He’s got a son in Mike’s and Chester’s age. I think his name is Joseph.”

“Yeah, I know him.” she said, wondering why everyone called him by his last name, and never by his first name. She wasn’t sure whether she actually knew his first name…

“Anyway, he told me about it. I saw him in court today, he was transporting someone to their trial. Hahn’s got a friend who’s a prison guard, and he told him about it yesterday. Apparently, Steven was stabbed to death with a knife.” Mrs. Shinoda nodded, still thinking about ways to help Chester deal with all this.

“I’m going to talk to Chester now. He’s been in the garden for twenty minutes, I guess he’s had enough time to calm down. And Jason is with him, that always helps him a lot.” Mrs. Shinoda announced, squeezing her husband’s hand.

xxxxx

As expected, Chester was doing what he always did when he had thrown a fit and needed to calm himself down. She found him petting his puppy and singing to himself, and she recognized the song as one of those songs he listened to on his Walkman all the time.

“Chester?” Mrs. Shinoda asked tentatively, sitting down next to her adopted son.

“Leave me alone.” he grumbled, not looking at her, and as embarrassed as always when being caught singing.

That was when she noticed he was hiding his left, dominant hand behind his back, which he usually did almost everything with.

“What are you hiding behind your back?”

“Not hiding anything…” he mumbled quietly, staring down at the dog sleeping in his lap.

It was more Chester’s dog than anyone else’s. Jason slept at the end of Chester’s bed when he sensed that he was in a bad mood or sick. He always came to him when he was sad and frustrated, cheering him up.

Mrs. Shinoda sighed. “Show me your hand, Chester.”

Very unwillingly, he obeyed.

“Chester! You’re bleeding! What did you do?” she asked, instantly worried.

“I…I punched the tree.” he admitted, now looking at his bleeding knuckles. “I’m sorry, mom…but I was so angry.”

“It’s okay, let’s go inside and get your hand cleaned up, hm?”

xxxxx

Chester found himself sitting on the edge of the bathtub while Mrs. Shinoda disinfected his knuckles.

_I’ve really gotten used to calling them mom and dad, I like having real parents. I feel safe with them_ , he thought.

“Doesn’t even hurt” he said to himself, and she looked up from his hand, while he was trying to hide the fact that the disinfectant stung like hell, and bit down hard on his bottom lip.

“You didn’t have to punch the tree, you know? We don’t judge you when you lose control over your emotions, you know that. It’s okay to show feelings. But we could have talked about it, you didn’t have to hurt yourself.”

He was silent for a little while, a hint of a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“It’s just not fair!” he blurted out, and his eyes showed raw emotion, like always when he was upset.

“What’s not fair?” she asked, although she knew exactly what he meant, trying to coax a more detailed explanation out of him.

“It’s not fair that Steven was killed already! He deserved more than that! I…I’ve been sleeping so bad lately, even with the lamp on, and he just…just dies and that’s it? I wanted him to stay in prison forever!”

_Are we really having this conversation? He’s just a kid…I want him to be happy, to be innocent, to not be thinking about those things…_

“I thought you were scared of testifying against him? Aren’t you relieved that you won’t have to do that now?”

“Yeah…I’m kinda glad I don’t have to do that anymore…but I’m still mad!”

“So you think he deserved more punishment?” she asked.

“Yeah. I can’t stop thinking about it. He deserves to suffer more than that.” he said, tears threatening to run down his face. “Do you know how he was killed? I wanna know!”

She thought about telling him the truth, she really considered it, but then decided against it. “I don’t know.” she lied, just trying to protect Chester, who let out a sound of frustration, kicking his heels lightly against the outside of the bathtub. “Hey, sit still, pumpkin. I’m not done with bandaging your hand.”

“Sorry…” he mumbled, looking down to his bruised knuckles.

_Why am I always so weak? Why did I have to punch the fucking tree? I can’t even sleep without the lamp on, I bet they think I’m a fucking weirdo…_

“There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about. Muto and I thought it would be a good idea for you to see a psychiatrist, especially now that Steven is dead, and – “

“I don’t need a shrink! I’m not going! I don’t want to!” he disagreed, squirming around on the edge of the tub, making it hard for Mrs. Shinoda to hold his hand still.

She was pretty sure the argument could even be heard downstairs, which was confirmed when her husband came through the door.

“What’s going on here?”

“I was just bringing up the idea that he should see a therapist, and he reacted just as we expected.” she explained while finalizing the bandage over Chester’s knuckles.

“I just don’t want you to think that I’m weak…or…or stupid or something…I really don’t wanna go…” Chester said quietly.

“Did I say you were weak?” she asked patiently.

“No, mom…”

“And did I say you were stupid?”

“No.” he said, shaking his head a little.

“Listen, Chester. I want you to know that you are not weak, or stupid, or crazy, or whatever you keep telling yourself. We are proud that you’re a part of our family, you hear me?”

He nodded, absently rubbing his right thumb over the bandage. Right in this moment, Mike joined them in the bathroom, asking what was happening.

“You and dad better take Jason for a walk, I need to discuss something with your brother.” she said, looking at Mike.

He immediately started arguing, and so did Chester, because if anyone was taking his dog for a walk, he wanted to go with them. Looking at their parents, both boys knew they had no chance winning this argument, and so, Mike and Muto went for a walk with Jason, while Chester and Donna stayed home.

xxxxx six months later

It had been difficult to get an appointment, and it had taken a long time, but today, Chester would have his first therapy session with Dr. Sophie Baker, the city’s best psychiatrist that specialized in children. He was as opposed to the idea of talking about Steven as he had been six months ago, but Mr. Shinoda had made it very clear that the therapy would be for his own good. There had been a big argument this morning. Now that both boys were 12, and on the brink to puberty, it became even clearer that they both had a strong will, and liked to stand up against their parents, defending and protecting each other at all times. There was no jealousy between them, and as they grew older, the bond between them became stronger and stronger.

As Chester was sitting on the therapist’s couch, more or less paying attention, he promised himself to stick to his plan, no matter what anyone would think of him later. Mrs. Shinoda was asked to leave the room so that Dr. Baker could talk to Chester in private. She had driven him to the practice, and was now sitting in the waiting room, knowing full well how the first few sessions would go. Her adoptive son was stubborn, almost as stubborn as Michael, and she knew that Chester still had a long way to go until he had dealt with his past, but she would do anything to help him.

xxxxx

**Thanks for reading.**


	10. Chapter 10

Chester was just done with his first therapy session. He was proud of himself, because he had managed to stick to his plan, and he intended on doing so for all the upcoming sessions, until he was sure Dr. Baker wasn’t one of those people who told him he was weak and abnormal. Not that anyone besides Steven had ever called him that, but it was what his mind made up. They left the room together because the psychiatrist wanted to talk to Donna before they left.

“So, Mrs. Shinoda, as you expected, Chester did not talk to me during the session. But I wouldn’t worry about it, it’s not uncommon for children to behave like this the first time. Just give him some time, we need to build trust.”

xxxxx

I don’t even hear mom’s answer to that. ‘For children’?! I’m not a child, I’m almost 13. Okay, I’ll be 13 next year, so technically I’m not even a teenager yet, but I don’t feel like a child either. And building trust? I will never trust that bitch. Fine, she’s not a bitch. But I’m so fucking angry right now and that means everyone is a bitch. She’s actually nice, but I won’t trust her just because mom and dad tell me to. It’s none of her fucking business what happened with Steven. I bet mom told her everything about it, anyway, so what’s the point of me talking about it?! I don’t wanna talk about my past with a stranger, and I’m not gonna talk about my feelings, that’s for sure. Screw her. I can always talk to Mike, I don’t need a fucking therapist.

I wouldn’t even know what to talk to her about. If she asked me any questions, I wouldn’t answer. That’s what I’ve been doing for the past 45 minutes. I sat on that couch with my arms crossed, staring into space. I haven’t reacted to anything she’s said, and that’s the way it will stay. Somehow, my brain blocks out what they talk about, and suddenly, I find myself sitting in the car on our way back home. All I want is sit in the tree and listen to music on my Walkman. I want everyone to leave me the fuck alone! Except of Jason, of course. I’d want him to be with me, he always calms me down. And singing, I like that, too. Yes. Listening to music and singing while playing with my puppy nearby the big old tree in the garden. That’s what I wanna do right now, and nothing else.

Why do they want me to talk to a therapist, anyway? I can come to mom and dad with all my problems, and Mike and I talk about everything, too. Dad told me I was too stubborn and that I needed to talk to the therapist, and that it was for my own good. I don’t need that, I can cope with my problems on my own. I don’t want her to know about my secrets. I fucking hate doctors. I hate them with a passion. There’s no need for her to look inside my head. It would be as if she read my mind, and I’m scared of that.

She’ll say I’m weak. Stupid. Abnormal. A weirdo. And weak. So weak. That’s what Steven always called me. He said that I’m weak, and that I’m a girl. A fucking girl! That’s bad. No boy wants to be called a girl. He said I cry too much, and that I should keep it together, but who could blame me? He beat me almost every day…I couldn’t protect myself. He was right, I’m weak. We’re home. How did we get home so fast? I can’t remember. I was in my own head the whole time. Again. I space out so much lately, even more than in the past. I bet it was because of the therapist. She screwed with my head, and now I’m losing my mind.

xxxxx

“Chester? We’re home. Come on, I’ll cook us something nice. Dad is picking up Mike from piano practice, they’ll be home soon.”

_Nice. Mike gets to play music, and what do I get? I’m being forced to talk about my feelings with a doctor. But I’m not jealous of Mike. Not ever. In fact, mom and dad asked me if I wanted to learn an instrument, too, and of course, I said yes. Mike quits piano, his teacher said that he’s even better than him by now, and in two weeks, Mike and I will be learning to play guitar. I’m so excited!_

“What will you cook, mom? Can I help?” I ask, because I feel bad for not talking to the therapist like she told me to. Also, I like helping her cook. It’s another thing people say is just for girls, but screw it, I like cooking.

“Vegetable lasagna. You can cut the zucchini if you want.”

While I peel and cut the zucchini to little pieces, mom tries to trick me into telling her why I didn’t talk to the bitch…I mean, therapist.

“Mooom, I’m sorry. I just don’t wanna talk to her, okay?”

“I’m not trying to force you to talk to her. There’s no pressure here. I just want to know why you think you can’t talk to her. She’s a therapist. A doctor. A professional. She can help you. She can – “

“I don’t need help.” I snap at her, cutting the poor vegetables so violently that I almost lose a finger.

“Don’t you interrupt me, young man.” she replies in her usual friendly voice, but I know that she’s trying to use the ‘dad-tone’ that always gets Mike and me to behave.

“Sorry…” I mumble, and before I can say anything to make the situation worse, Dad and Mike come home. Jason comes running towards them, waking up from his nap in the hallway. There’s a lot of barking and cuddling; I’m so glad Mike and I brought him home, and it’s even better that we were allowed to keep him.

When Mike sees me in the kitchen, he signs: ‘How was the doctor?’, and with a few quick finger movements, I sign back ‘I hated it, will tell you more later’. We know more than the basics of sign language by now; we’ve been practicing for months, and it’s a lot of fun to do it at home and at school. Especially at school, for obvious reasons…

xxxxx Mike’s POV

It’s been a little over a month since Chester had his first meeting with the therapist mom and dad send him to, and last night, I accidently overheard one of their conversations about the whole topic. Well, not that accidently, to be honest. I’ve eavesdropped a lot, although dad always tells me I shouldn’t because it’s not polite to listen to other people’s conversations. But I can’t help it. I actually just wanted to get a glass of water in the kitchen, but when I walked past their bedroom door, hearing the words ‘therapy’, and ‘Chester’, I just couldn’t go back to sleep before I had heard everything.

“It’s been over four weeks, and four meetings, and he still doesn’t talk to her!”

“Give him time, Muto. She said she sees a change in his behavior, and that she’s certain he will open up to her soon.”

“I’m just worried about him. I mean…he seems happy, as if the memories of what happened to him were fading, you know? But then there are times when he doesn’t speak all day and I can tell he’s lost in those destructive thoughts about that man.”

“I know what you mean, honey. I don’t know what to do, either. I guess we should just wait.”

“Wait? No, I’m going to talk to him tomorrow and tell him that he has to talk to her, and that he won’t get out of there just because he thinks not talking about it will solve the problem!”

“Darling, no. Dr. Baker said that if we force him to talk about it with her, he might see it as pressure, and that he needs to talk about his problems when he feels ready for it, and when he trusts her.”

“This is so frustrating, Donna. I want Chester to get help, I know he needs help, and I know we can’t help him on our own. He needs this therapy, but he refuses to talk…Do you think he and Michael talk about the therapy?”

“Oh, definitely. I’m sure they share more secrets than we can imagine. And about the psychiatrist…just give him a little more time, okay?”

xxxxx

On the other side of the door, Mike had completely forgotten about the glass of water he was holding in both hands. He went back upstairs as quickly and quietly as he could, heading straight to Chester’s room, walking in without knocking, as always.

“Chaz? Chaz, are you sleeping already?” he asked quietly into the darkness.

Chester had stopped leaving the bedside lamp on a few months ago; he didn’t need it anymore. “Wha…? What the hell, Mike…It’s like…almost midnight. What the fuck are you doing here? I was sleeping…” Chester said, yawning loudly and switching on the lamp.

Without waiting for an invitation, Mike crossed the room, careful not to wake the dog sleeping at the end of Chester’s bed, and sat down on the floor cross legged, telling Chester everything he had overheard downstairs.

“So why don’t you wanna talk to the therapist? I don’t get it.” Mike finished.

“I wish everyone would stop asking me that. Mom really said that Dr. Baker thinks I would open up to her soon?” Chester asked.

Mike nodded.

“But it’s not gonna happen. I don’t want to, and if they force me, then I’ll just lie to her.” he said, now completely awake.

“You don’t have to lie, just tell her the truth.” Mike argued.

“Dammit, Mike, I thought you were on my side!”

“I _am_ on your side! But it’s fucking stupid not to talk to a doctor, or to lie!”

“You’re just saying that because _you_ couldn’t lie. But I can! I could tell her whatever the hell she wanted to hear…”

“No, you’re just as bad of a liar as I am. Plus, she’s a psychiatrist, she can tell when you lie.” Mike insisted.

Now they were in full argument mode, not realizing that they were raising their voices this late at night. “Dad can tell when we lie, too, and he’s not a psychiatrist, Mike. I’m scared what she’ll find when she reads my mind.”

“She’s not a mind reader, she’s a doctor. For what’s inside the head.”

“Same thing. Mom and Dad say I can trust her, but why do I have to do that?”

“Damn it, Chaz. I just told you what I heard them talk about. They’re just worried.”

There was a pause in which Chester contemplated if not talking or lying was the right thing to do. “Um, Mike? Do you think I should talk to her?” Chester asked hesitantly, now thinking that if Mike agreed, he might try it.

“Actually…well, uh…yeah. Maybe she can help you, you know?” Mike admitted.

Right at that moment, Jason woke up, barking loudly. “God damn it, Mike, you woke him up!” Chester hissed, trying to hush the dog, so their parents wouldn’t come upstairs.

“Me? No, you woke him up. Your voice is louder than mine, you damn – “

“What’s all this noise?” Muto asked, entering the room and finding his sons in one of their bickering, but not serious arguments with Mike gesturing wildly while talking, and Chester frantically trying to calm down the barking dog.

_Just another night at my house…_ he thought. “Do you guys realize what time it is?”

“Uhhh…” they said in unison.

“It’s 1 am. And it’s a school night, which means?” he asked them.

They looked at each other quizzically. It wasn’t the first time they stayed up late on a school night. And it also wasn’t the first time they had been caught doing so, and then being scolded the next morning when they were sitting tired at the breakfast table.

“School night means you go to bed early to wake up early. Now go back to your room, Michael. Whatever you’ve been talking about can be finished tomorrow. You should go to sleep, both of you, am I clear?”

“But we’re not even tired!” Mike argued, stifling a yawn.

“Don’t argue with me this late at night. Now go to bed.”

There were no more arguments, and a few minutes later, the house was quiet. The next morning went exactly as Muto had expected. When his son’s alarm clocks went off at 6:30, they needed more time than usual to make their way to the breakfast table, sitting there grumpily and tired. “I told you so.” he said, sipping his coffee. Little did he know that today would turn out different than he had initially thought…

xxxxx Mike’s POV

At school, I’m not paying much attention, which is unusual for me. Normally it’s Chester who is day dreaming and then being called out for it by the teachers. However, today it’s my turn to be less attentive than ever.

_I really wonder why Chaz doesn’t wanna talk to his psychiatrist. If I had experienced what he has, I would definitely talk to someone about it. I can see that mom and dad are disappointed that he doesn’t talk to the therapist, and I heard them say that it’s not enough if he tells me or them about Steven. But he just doesn’t want to. I don’t think it would be a good idea to lie to the therapist, but I can’t convince him to tell the truth. Sometimes he’s so quiet all day, and he normally is the opposite of quiet._

Now it’s history class, which I always find fucking boring, anyway, and I’ve been drawing in my notebook the entire time. I haven’t written down a single word of what the teacher has said. I glance over at Chaz who sits on the far left so he doesn’t bump elbows with anyone while writing. _He’s actually writing down stuff, I can’t believe it…_ I’m thinking of ways to convince Chester to talk to the psychiatrist, which is why I don’t realize the teacher is saying my name. I’m looking out of the window, and I only snap back to reality when the teacher, Mr. Johnson, slaps down my history book on my desk.

“Michael, are you listening?”

“Uh, what? I mean…excuse me, sir?” I ask, noticing Chester, Brad and Rob trying not to laugh at me.

“Have you written down anything I said? This is important for the test next week.”

_Test? What test? Damn, I gotta study. I didn’t even know there’s a test coming…_

“Sorry, I…uh, I wasn’t listening.”

“I can see that, Michael. Pay attention. This is no lesson to be day dreaming all the time.”

“Yes, sir.” I say, blushing at being scolded like this in front of the whole class.

I can hear a few people giggling, and the lesson continues. Thankfully, ten minutes later, it ends. It’s the first lesson of the day, but I can’t concentrate all day. In almost every class I don’t write down anything because I don’t pay attention, and every time the teachers notice. During the break before our last lesson of the day, two of the older students have a fight on the school yard before a teacher intervenes. It makes me think back to the first time Chester saw our parents fight, and later, Mom explained to him that even their marriage isn’t perfect, but that he and I shouldn’t blame ourselves. She said that kids always think it’s their fault when the parents fight, but that adults sometimes have disagreements, especially when they have been married or in a relationship for a long time.

_Chaz always blames himself for everything. There are good and bad days with him, mostly good, but on bad days, he doesn’t even wanna talk to me. Mom and dad say he needs some space and alone time, but it sucks anyway. These are the days when I hang out with only Brad and Rob, instead of all four of us hanging out together. They always ask what’s up with him, but I don’t wanna tell. He wouldn’t want me to tell them that he still has nightmares, and that he’s seeing a therapist. Our friends don’t know about that, and I won’t tell them._

_They’ve already asked too many questions when mom and dad adopted Chaz. They only know that his previous home wasn’t that great because he got beat up, and that he needed to find a better family, but they don’t know anything about the other stuff Steven did._

During the last lesson today, English, I suddenly have an idea. _What if I accompanied Chaz to his next therapy session, he would feel better and be able to talk to the psychiatrist? I’ll definitely do that. I’ll ask mom and dad today, and hopefully they’ll say yes. That’s what I’ll do. And maybe Chaz has gotten better and more attentive at school because he’s learning guitar now. Our parents said that learning how to play an instrument is good for kids. It’s supposed to improve the ability to focus or something. Maybe that’s why they made me play piano in the first place?_

I watch as Chester actually participates in the lesson, even presenting his homework willingly. _Damn, I’ve been such a bad student today, I would never hear the end of the scolding dad would give me if he knew._ The last lesson is over, and we go home, finally. I hope nobody has called home to tell about that incident in biology class today…

xxxxx

When we arrive, mom is already pissed. So they did call. Great.

“There you are. Just wait until your father comes home.” she greets us, and Chester and I don’t even ask if we can play videogames before dinner.

“Look, mom, it’s not what you think.” Chester tries to defend me, but I know it won’t do any good to argue, so we just go upstairs to avoid any trouble, waiting for dad.

“It was really stupid, you know?” he asks me while we make our way to my room.

“I know. But I found a solution to your problem with the psychiatrist!”

“You did?”

“Yeah, I did. What if I just come with you? If you don’t feel so good with the therapist, I’ll just talk for you. You’ve told me everything about Steven, right?” I ask, not waiting for his answer. “And if she asks any stupid questions about it, I’ll help you answer. It’s gonna be ok the next time you have to see her.”

Chester doesn’t even think about it for a second; he immediately agrees with me, and now, even the thought of having to deal with dad hearing what stunt we’ve pulled in biology today doesn’t seem so frightening anymore. We do our homework together, and today is the first time I copy what Chaz has written down all day, not the other way around. I can’t let mom and dad know what else was going on at school today, so we do all the homework quietly, making sure we’re done with it before dinner.

And then it’s finally dinner time. Or not ‘finally’ today. I haven’t exactly been looking forward to it today. Mom doesn’t give us a chance to explain ourselves and just tells dad what our biology teacher has told her on the phone. Man, we’re in trouble. But at least we’re in it together.

“Do you want to know why Mr. Williams called me today?” mom asks, and Chester and I already lower our gazes, pretending to be interested in the rice and chicken on our plates.

“Mr. Williams? The biology teacher?”

“Yes, honey. He called me when I had just arrived home from work.”

Dad sighs. “What did you do this time?” he asks, looking at Chester.

_Just because it’s Chaz the 364 other days of the year doesn’t mean it can’t be me one time,_ I think.

“ _Me_? Why does it always have to be me?” he immediately complains.

“I’m just asking, son.” dad says, now looking at me, and I can already feel that I won’t be able to lie about this. Oh no. “Michael? What happened?”

I don’t wanna answer. I know what will happen. Mom eventually answers for me, but that doesn’t make it any easier. When she’s done talking, Chester and I are looking at each other, trying to find a way out of this conversation.

“So you’re telling me that you not only insulted your teacher after he repeatedly asked you to pay more attention, but you also proceeded to insult him when he separated you in class?”

“Um, yes.” I mumble. “It’s…it’s true. And it’s also true that I called him a…a, uh, dickhead when he told me to leave the classroom.”

“We only did it because the teacher was being annoying, and because we had better things to do.” Chester says quickly, lying for me, hiding the fact that I was the only one not paying attention all day.

“You don’t have to lie for me, Chaz…” I hear myself say. “You were good today. You were taking notes in class and participating, and I wasn’t. So when Mr. Williams said I shouldn’t day dream, I told him to fuck off.” I admit.

“You told him to _what_?!” dad asks.

“I didn’t even say it that loud…” I defend myself, but dad just raises an eyebrow and the truth bursts out of us.

xxxxx Chester’s POV

We admit to calling our teacher all sorts of names we would usually never use in front of our parents. All of this wouldn’t be that much of a drama in a different family, but dad is really strict about the ‘respect your teachers’ rule, and after several long, never-ending minutes of being reprimanded for language and disrespect, we find ourselves standing in two separate corners of the downstairs bathroom, facing the white and grey tiled wall. We have cotton wool wads with soap in our mouths, and it’s not the first time. We’re allowed to spit them out five minutes later. God, how I hate this punishment. Soap just doesn’t taste as great as it smells, and I can’t wait to brush my teeth.

When Mike and I screw up together, we get punished together, and although dad is kinda old fashioned in the way he reacts to our screw-ups, I can deal with the punishments because it shows me that someone cares about me. I know that mom and dad love me, and that we only get punished to get taught lessons. I’ve even been spanked once or twice. Okay, definitely more than twice, but I don’t really wanna think about it. Mike says that dad doesn’t do that to hurt us, but to teach us a lesson with the embarrassment that comes with being bent over his knee and being disciplined. And it’s always with the pants on, and never with a belt, so it’s nothing like the way Steven did it.

When we’re done brushing our teeth, Mike says:

“I only was distracted today because I found a way to help Chaz with the therapist!”

Dad looks at us, and there’s a change on his face. I can see he’s not angry at us anymore. Faster than light we all take a seat on the couch, and Mike is asked to tell our parents about his idea. As he explains why he thinks it would be a good idea to accompany me to the therapy, mom and dad agree to it even faster than I did.

_Damn. Now I have to do it. And if it doesn’t work out, they’ll be disappointed in me. Mike will be disappointed, too. He’ll think I’m a loser who can’t even talk about his past. He’ll judge me for being weak and stupid. But I might feel better with him than when I’m alone at the therapy. Maybe it helps. It’s not like we haven’t talked about those things. About the nightmares, about thinking too much about Steven, about…well…everything that I refuse to tell the psychiatrist._

Now I just have to wait until Monday afternoon. That’s the day I’ll have my next therapy session, and although I hate Mondays, and therapy, and doctors in general, I’m looking forward to the next one.

xxxxx

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	11. Chapter 11

We’re sitting on this awful, beige couch in Dr. Baker’s office, and Mike has been talking his head off for the past twenty minutes. I’m starting to think that he needs this therapy more than I do. I’m guessing she said something that tricked him into trusting her. Into talking to her. Into betraying my trust. For the first time since I’ve known Mike, I’m seriously mad at him. That son of a – wait, I shouldn’t even think that.

Yes, I wanted to take him with me today, I even looked forward to it all weekend, but this…this is incredible. She asked him how he felt about me having to go to therapy, and he just told her the truth. The truth! Which is none of her fucking business. Once again, I’m sitting here with my arms crossed over my chest, refusing to say a single word. I wouldn’t get a chance to say anything, though, because Mike is doing all the talking. As I take a look around the room, I listen to every word Mike says, biting my lip and trying not to lose my temper. Because if I would, she’d get what she wants. She would see what I feel, and I don’t want that. Mom and dad always say that I have to work on my temper, anyway, so I’ll just practice here.

Five minutes later, and I’m balling my hands into fists. She asked me how I feel about everything Mike told her…I gave her the meanest death glare I can manage, and she didn’t even flinch. What did she expect? That I suddenly talk only because Mike did? No. Fuck, no. I stare at the colorful sofa cushions to my left. Everything in this room, except of this fucking beige couch, is colorful. Red, blue, yellow, green, purple, whatever. I hate it. I hate everything. I hate myself. But I don’t hate Mike. I could never hate him, he’s my brother. Of course, I could tell him to stop talking about all this. I could say that it’s private, but that would mean I had to say something. And I’m not going to say anything.

Breathing calmly becomes difficult as I listen to him telling her about my nightmares. I want to leave this room right now. Because if I don’t leave now, I’ll burst into tears any second. I can already feel it. I know just too well what the last few seconds before I cry my eyes out feel like. Fucking hell, I’m such a girl. I wanna go home. I feel safe there, I don’t feel safe here. I try to block out Mike’s voice and Dr. Baker’s stupid questions. He’s told her all about the nightmares. All about how I came to live with him, all about our friends and what they know about my past.

All about my…our puppy and how he is the only one who can calm me down when I’m angry, and oh boy, now he’s telling her about how I can’t control my emotions and what tantrums I’m throwing at home when I’m mad, and that he thinks it’s okay to be upset. Okay? It’s not okay, it makes me weak and stupid.

I’m so embarrassed. I can feel tears running down my cheeks, but somehow, I manage not to make a sound while I cry. I’m looking away from them, and I feel so betrayed. I wanna yell at him. Hell, I wanna hit him. And just a second later, I can’t control myself anymore.

“God fucking dammit, Mike, she’s not a friend you can trust! Shut the hell up!” I shout, and the room goes silent.

I’ve thrown a pillow against the wall, or, in the general direction of the wall, and instead, the pillow has kicked over a lamp. Nothing broke, but it wouldn’t have been the first time I broke something in a fit of anger. I press my left hand over my mouth, and I wish I could turn back time. Mike looks me as if I had slapped him in the face.

“Chaz? I…I was just saying that it’s okay to be upset sometimes. I’m, too. Just like last Friday at school.”

“What happened at school, Mike?” Dr. Baker asks, and he falls for it again, telling her what happened in biology class and in all other lessons we had that day.

How does he not see that she’s the enemy? What does she do that he tells her all of our secrets? She must be some sort of a witch. I hate that she calls him Mike instead of Michael. Adults call him Michael, friends call him Mike, and she’s definitely not a friend. I’m surprised she didn’t call me out on the curse words. Must be a strategy to make us trust her. Bitch. Fucking bitch.

Suddenly, I feel like shit. Mike tells her how confused it makes him when I have those bad days when I don’t talk at all. He also tells her about last Friday…How he couldn’t focus all day at school because he was trying to figure out how to help me with the therapy. How he didn’t say anything when I lied to our parents for him, and how he still didn’t say anything when we both got punished for it.

“That’s okay” I hear myself say. “I didn’t say anything, either. I…I didn’t want you to…to take the blame all on your own. It wouldn’t have been fair. I insulted Mr. Williams, too, and – “

“But not like I did. He threw me out of the room, remember?” Mike interrupts, grinning at me.

“Yeah…” I reply, and now we’re both laughing together.

I had never seen Mike like that. Being this disrespectful to a teacher; insulting him and yelling at him in front of the whole class, and it was all because of me. Fuck, I’m such a loser. I should have talked to my therapist. I should have told her how I feel about Steven and that he’s dead now and how I can’t control my feelings and everything else that I suck at. Dr. Baker just lets us talk it out, and I can’t decide whether I like or hate that.

“I’m sorry” Mike whispers.

“I’m sorry, too.” I admit.

“I shouldn’t have let dad punish you for what I did. I should have said it was mostly me who screwed up.”

“Tell me, Mike, how does your dad punish you?” she asks.

With flaming red cheeks, he tells her about standing face first in a corner, and about having our mouths washed out with soap when we swear too much, and also about being spanked when we cross the line one too many times. She just listens and writes some notes down.

“How do you feel about that?” she asks us both, and for the very first time since I’ve been in this room, I answer one of her questions.

“Well, um, it…it sucks, of course. But it never hurts that bad, you know? We can take it, because it’s just embarrassing, nothing more. And we don’t get spanked very often, just when we really screw up…” I explain, fidgeting with my hands. “And Mike, I’m…I’m sorry I made you do all the talking today.”

Mike and I hug for a second, and everything is cool between us again. He’s still my brother, and I can’t be mad at him for long.

“I…I promise I’ll talk more next time.” I say to Dr. Baker. “But…can I take Mike with me again, please?”

“Of course, Chester. Anything that helps you.” she answers.

With a quick glance to my wristwatch I notice that the 45 minutes are up, we even needed five more minutes this time. We leave the office, and Mike and I listen as she tells mom about the progress she has seen today, and that it was a fantastic idea to bring Mike along.

“And Mrs. Shinoda,” she says before we go, “I think you should talk to your husband about the way he punishes your sons when they’ve made mistakes. In my professional opinion, there is no reason to spank children. Ever. There are many studies that show correlations between spanking and violence later in life. He really shouldn’t do this.”

“I…I know.” Mom says, “I’ve already talked to Muto about this, but he insists that if his own father raised him like this, then there won’t be any harm for our sons. Although I don’t agree with him a 100 percent on this. He doesn’t do it often, though.”

“The point is that he shouldn’t do it at all. Not anymore. Chester told me that he and Mike don’t feel harmed by it, and that it only makes them feel embarrassed, but I would appreciate talking to your husband next week.”

“Of course. I’ll let him know, Doctor.”

xxxxx

We arrive at home and spend the rest of the day taking Jason for a long walk. Mom and dad let us go all on our own, although it’s already late, which is really cool. Mom said she needed to talk to dad about something, and Mike and I knew exactly about what. We had a quick, early dinner and then it was already time to go. She even gave us some money to go buy ice cream. Never before have we left the house this quickly.

We’ve grabbed our skateboards from the garage and went to the Lincoln Park, which has a skate park area and also a dog park area. I love that park. We’ve spent so much time there; with Jason, with our parents, with Brad and Rob, and also just the two of us.

xxxxx

Meanwhile at home, Donna started a conversation that her and Muto had already had a couple of times, but that she had never won because of her husband’s stubbornness. _Not this time,_ she thought.

“Muto? Dr. Baker said that the boys told her about the punishments they get when they did something wrong.” she started, thinking that it would be best to just openly address the topic. “She wants to see you next week when you pick them up…And she, like me, thinks that spanking them is the wrong thing to do.”

“I don’t do that because I want to, Donna. I do it because it has to be done. How else am I supposed to teach them right from wrong? Sometimes they need discipline.” he defended himself.

“They don’t need discipline, they need love.” she argued.

“Are you saying that I don’t love my children? And we’ve had this argument before, Donna.”

“Of course I am not saying that you don’t love them. That’s ridiculous. But I think you’re too strict with them. Especially Chester. He’s had such a hard life before we took him in, you need to go easier on him. On both of them. And I don’t care if we’ve had this argument before. We’ll have it until you change your mind about the way you deal with them.”

“Listen, honey – “

“Oh, don’t you call me honey now!” she complained, raising her voice.

“Fine. I know that I’m hard on them sometimes, but I’m raising them the way I was raised. My parents would have never allowed me to behave like they do. They are – “

“They are nice boys. Friendly. Kind. Mostly well-behaved. They care about their friends, they are not mean to other kids, they are good at school, most times. A C- is not a bad grade, remember that next time.”

Muto thought back to that day three weeks ago when Mike and Chester had come home from school with the results of their math class test. Mike had had an A, while Chester had a C-.

_I scolded him about it, I said that he should have studied more…_

Donna knew exactly what Muto was thinking about. Her husband sometimes forgot to praise good grades and to not freak out over anything that was below a B.

“That day, Muto, I talked to Chester about his grade, and he told me he had studied so much, and that Michael had even helped him studying, but that math had always been something he couldn’t wrap his head around. He said he was ashamed of himself, and he cried about it. You know how sensitive he is. I need you to know that just because _you’re_ good at math, and Michael, too, does not mean that there’s no one who has some problems with it. And by the way, it wasn’t an F, it was a C-, which is a pretty decent grade for someone who’s not a math genius.”

“I…I know that, Donna, but…I wasn’t trying to make him feel bad about himself, I wanted to encourage him.” Muto said. His wife was right, he knew she was.

“Well, it didn’t come across like that. I like how you can explain the world to them, and how you’re always honest when they have a question, but you need to be more patient.”

“That might be true, but I just don’t have your endless patience with them. I work so much, and…”

“Patience is important, Muto. And don’t you _dare_ blame it on work! I work, too, in case you’ve forgotten. I work part time there, and part time I take care of this house, of cooking, of the garden, of the boys. And I _know_ there are a few exceptions sometimes, but our sons know what respect is. When they grow up, they are going to be nice people. You should be proud of them.”

“I _am_ proud of them! I am so proud of our little boys, and I love them so much. I just don’t know how to say it sometimes.”

Donna sighed. They had been pacing in the living room the whole time during the argument. “I’m not saying anything against a little scolding when they did make a mistake, or when they’ve been disrespectful, but there won’t be anymore spanking them. It’s not the right thing to do. I admit that I’m angry with them, too, sometimes, like last Friday. I also admit that I thought it was okay when Michael was little, like when he stole the remote control car, and just talking to him about it wouldn’t have taught him his lesson, but you can’t do it anymore. Now I know that it wasn’t okay then, and it isn’t okay now. I should have said something sooner.”

“I know, I know. It’s just the way I was raised. My father did that to me until I was 16, and I thought it’s a normal thing to do when your children don’t behave. I guess I should apologize to them, don’t you think?”

“Yes, you should. They’ll be home in a few minutes, you can do it before bedtime.”

“I love you, honey.” he said, and they hugged, sharing a gentle kiss before their alone time was interrupted again. Surprisingly, their sons had made it home in time.

xxxxx

Mike and Chester came home at exactly 9 pm, tired from the evening in the park. Even Jason the dog was tired and went to sleep on his cushion in the hallway, the place where he slept when he didn’t sleep at the end of Chester’s bed.

“Michael? Chester? Will you come here for a minute? I have to talk to you about something.” Muto said after they had left their shoes and jackets at the door.

They joined him on the couch while Donna quietly watched them from the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest. Mike and Chester sat on either side of Muto, waiting for him to start talking.

“I talked to your mother about what the psychiatrist said, and she convinced me that what I’ve been doing is wrong.” Muto said straightforwardly. “I promise that from now on, I’ll try to be more patient, and I won’t punish you like I used to do when you’ve made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes. Me, too. We’ll just talk about it then, and see what we can do about it, how does that sound, hm?”

Mike and Chester smiled at each other; so their parents’ talk had brought something good in the end. Before they could answer, Muto said:

“And…Chester, I need to apologize for how I reacted to your last math class test. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about your grade, it was fine. I wanted to encourage you to be better next time, but I want you to know that your grade wasn’t a bad one. I’m sorry for scolding you about it.”

Chester couldn’t believe his ears. He had felt so terrible that day, and he had expected it to be the same every time he had a grade that wasn’t as perfect as Mike’s grades.

“Uh, dad, it’s…that’s nice, thanks. But you really don’t have to apologize. The test was my own fault, I should have studied more, like you said. I know I’m a bit stupid when it comes to math, but I’ll try to do better next time.”

“You are not stupid. Don’t you ever tell that to yourself. It was my mistake, I shouldn’t have been so critical.”

From her spot at the doorway, Donna smiled at Muto and the boys, knowing that sometimes, all her husband needed was a push in the right direction. She knew that he didn’t always know how to show his sons that he was proud of them, or that he should phrase things in a different way so that his message came across right.

xxxxx

That night when I fall asleep, I feel better than in over a month. Maybe the therapist isn’t a mean demonic witch that messes up my brain, like I thought all this time. Next Monday will be better. I’ll talk to her and answer her questions, and Mike will be with me again. I’ll be nice to her. I won’t glare at her as if she were the enemy. Because she’s not. Not anymore. Maybe.

xxxxx

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	12. Chapter 12

Oh man, why is it Monday again? I have been to therapy twice since the last time, and Mike has been with me, but now, I feel strong enough to go there on my own. Now it’s the start of week three after the first time I talked to Dr. Baker willingly, and I know that mom and dad are glad that I finally talk to her.

So here I am, sitting on that damn beige couch again, and I hear myself tell her about the week I’ve had. Mike and I have apologized to our teachers for all the incidents. Well, dad has kinda forced us into apologizing, and I think that now that he doesn’t punish us physically anymore, he spends even more time on scolding us verbally when we’re out of line. But Mike and I are fine with that, because we’ve learned to pretend to listen, look at dad with our best puppy eyes and act as if we’ve learned our lesson, when in reality we’re already planning what stunt we can pull next. It’s just too much fun to not behave the way we’re supposed to the second we leave the house.

Mike told me that he overheard our parents talking about the punishments, and that mom thinks we’re too old for that now. We both know that actually, it’s not dad, but mom who’s wearing the pants in their marriage.

There’s gonna be a three-day school trip next year, and there’s nothing that Mike, Brad, Rob and I look forward to more. We’ve pulled them onto the dark side with us, but Mike and I are still the bad guys of our group, especially me. Mike is the leader, I’m the troublemaker, Brad is stuck between being the nice, well behaved boy that his parents want him to be, and the kind of guy Mike and I am, while Rob is like the voice of reason that holds us back when it gets too far. Sometimes we hang out with Joe, who’s dad’s friend’s son. He’s really cool and funny, but also kinda weird. I like him. He goes to another school in the city, but we see him a few times every month.

Mike and I are like one. He’s a little more reasonable than I am, but in fact, we’re one person. I love that I finally have friends, and a family, and someone that is not only my best friend, but my brother. When I lived with Steven, I never thought I would have such a life one day, but here I am. They care about me, and they care enough to make me go to therapy, which I don’t hate as much as I used to. I still don’t like it, but I gotta admit that it helps. With my anxiety, with my nightmares, and with those weird thoughts in my head that I never could explain.

There’s another thing I’m proud of. It might seem stupid to other people, but I am proud of it. I’m finally able to sit still at school and at the table at home when we eat. I know that it bothered the hell out of my parents that I never was able to sit still for more than three minutes without starting to squirm around on the chair, wanting to get up and fucking do something instead of just sitting there. It was an issue at school, too. The teachers sometimes made me sit at a separate desk away from my friends, all alone, so I could focus better. They say I have ADHD. It’s not the first time a teacher has brought this up, but mom says that doctors diagnose that shit way too early these days. Of course, she didn’t use those exact words, but that’s how she meant it. So, I’m not going to a doctor who claims that I’m crazy and too stupid to hold still, and who will force me to take meds.

Instead, mom said that going to therapy and talking about my problems will help. Also, learning how to play guitar will help me concentrate. At least that’s what she read in some parenting advice book… And I think it actually works. I’m getting better at school, and I’m proud of the progress me and Mike are making. Of course, Mike is better at playing guitar. He’s better at everything, but I don’t care that much about that. I bet mom reads this parenting advice crap because I’m too difficult to deal with…

I’m telling all this to Dr. Baker, and suddenly, I have to think back to the meeting two weeks ago, the second time Mike had accompanied me to the psychiatrist. During that meeting, she had let Mike and me just talk to each other about whatever I needed to get out, while she had taken notes.

_“Um, Mike…there’s something I’ve never told you before.”_

_“Yeah? What?”_

_“It’s so stupid, don’t laugh at me.”_

_“I never laugh at you. Okay, sometimes I do, but you laugh at me, too, like when something funny happens at school, you know?”_

_“Yeah…so, um, anyway, you remember that when you first met me, I was poor as fuck and you were this rich boy?”_

_“Yes. But you’re not poor anymore! You live with me, and – “_

_“And that’s it. I met you, and I was so jealous at first. You had everything I never had. You had the nice parents, and the good clothes that didn’t have holes in them, and you had things like a cool new backpack and a Walkman. And a big ass house. Hell, this place has two bathrooms…in the trailer park, we didn’t even have warm water every day.”_

_“You’ve never told me that…”_

_“Yeah, and…and then I was at your house like…like every day after school, and suddenly your, uh, our parents, cared for me, too, and I didn’t feel so poor anymore. And then practically overnight, I even lived there. I felt so out of place the first few times I visited you, because I didn’t look like I belonged there. I was so embarrassed when dad saw the place I used to live before I lived with you…And when I came to live in that big ass house, I suddenly had my own, big room, and I had nicer clothes, and a comfortable bed and everything normal kids have. And that still freaks me out because I don’t deserve it.”_

_“But now you’re not poor anymore. And you belong to us! You’re my brother now, even if we’re not related!” Mike has said, not really getting the point of what I meant._

“Chester? Have you been spacing out again?” I hear Dr. Baker ask, and that’s when I realize that I’ve been staring out of the window instead of listening to her.

“What?!” I ask, remembering that dad always tries to teach us the difference between asking ‘what’ and ‘excuse me’. I can’t seem to learn it, though. I don’t wanna appear disrespectful, but I just don’t think about it. Why can’t I learn to use, ‘excuse me, what did you say?’, like dad always tells us? It’s because I’m an idiot. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. That’s what I am.

“I asked if you were spacing out. Day dreaming, not realizing where you are and mentally going someplace else.”

“Uh, yeah. That happens to me sometimes…” I admit, blushing and fidgeting with the little blue, squishy anti-stress ball in my hand that she keeps in her office and always gives to me during the therapy sessions.

“Your mother tells me that it happens a lot, Chester. She also tells me that your teachers say it happens at school, as well.” she says without judgement.

I look down to the anti-stress ball, squeezing it like a maniac. I’m blushing even more, nodding and telling her that yes, it does happen at school. And at home. And everywhere else when I get distracted for even a second. “What do you think about when you space out?”

“I…I…um, a lot of things. Stupid things. Just…those weird thoughts that I’ve had for years. Ever since…my real mom died, and I was alone with…with him.” I admit quietly, forcing my mind not to go there.

“And do you want to tell me what those thoughts are about?” she asks.

_No. No, I don’t wanna talk about them. They are bad. They keep me up all night, sometimes. When I think about them too much, I’m going crazy. They force their way into my head, whether I like it or not. They are always there, in the background._

“Not yet” I hear myself say, squeezing the ball with both hands now. “That’s okay. Just tell me more about them when you feel ready. Do you have any way of dealing with them?”

“I’ve told Mike all about them. And I’ve told mom and dad a bit, but not everything.” I quickly tell her. Sometimes I can’t stop myself from talking, and that’s when I say: “I even keep a diary.”

_Fuck. Fucking hell. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I didn’t wanna be so honest. It’s none of anyone’s business that I write a diary like a fucking girl._ I slap my hand over my mouth, wishing I could somehow ‘unsay’ things…

“There’s no reason to be ashamed of writing a diary, Chester. It’s a good thing. Many people do it. It’s a really good way to clear one’s mind and keep all thoughts organized if they get out of control.”

“I know. I’ve been doing it for years.” I mumble. _Damn, another truth that I didn’t want to come out. What is she? A mind reader?! I gotta be more careful…_

“Even better. Just keep writing down your thoughts and what happens in your life until you’re ready to talk about all this with me. And remember: You’re not the only one keeping a diary, other people do it, too.”

“Yeah, girls.” I reply in a nasty tone, because I don’t wanna be like a girl. I wanna be cool and strong, not stupid and weak. There are a lot of cool girls in my class, so I know that girls aren’t stupid and weak, but that’s how Steven always talked about women. “Oh, shit! Sorry!” I say as I suddenly realize how it must have come across.

“No, it’s okay. Why are you so afraid of being seen as girly?”

“What?! I’m…I’m not afraid of…of…fuck, what kinda question is that even?!”

She stays completely calm as I’m getting angrier with every word. I like that she doesn’t say anything against all the cursing. It helps me. Cursing, I mean. It helps me deal with my anger.

“Well, I can tell from the way you react that the one thing you don’t want to be is to be seen as a girl. Which is understandable. No boy your age wants to be associated with anything girlish. When people say such things as ‘you throw a ball like a girl’, or ‘you hit like a girl’, it hurts, doesn’t it?” she asks, and suddenly I’m confused as hell, because other guys in my class have actually said those things to me.

“Wait – how…how do you know that?” I stutter, but a few seconds later I realize that I’ve told mom about it, and that she must have told my therapist…

“If you already know how it makes me feel, why the _fuck_ do you ask? You’ve heard it all from mom, don’t fucking ask me about it!” I complain, squeezing the hell out of the anti-stress ball. _Damn, I need one of those at home._

“Because I’d like to hear it from you. Our time is up, so think about it at home and tell me next week, or whenever you feel ready. And keep the ball, you need it more than I do.” she says with a smile, and suddenly I’m not so angry anymore.

xxxxx Several months later

Finally, I’m 13. I still go to therapy once a week, and I have really opened up to Dr. Baker. I’ve told her about Steven, and how I feel about him being dead. I don’t like going to therapy, but I don’t hate it, either. What I do hate is talking about Steven. Who he was, what he did to me, and that I can’t stop thinking about all of this. The worst thing is that when she asks me about him, I can’t put into words how I feel. If I had to describe it, it would be something a million times stronger than hatred.

The feeling doesn’t go away. I can deal with it better than I could in the past, but whenever I think about everything that happened (and I think about it a lot), I feel this intense hatred inside of me. It makes me want to break stuff. On the bright side, the therapy has helped me with my ‘emotional outbursts’ like my parents call them. I can control my emotions better than I used to, and I’m a little bit proud of that. But when I do get angry, it’s really bad.

But right now, none of that matters because I’m fucking sick. I’ve spent the last four days on the couch in the living room under my warm blanket. I have a headache, I can’t breathe through my nose, I need to cough all the time, and I’m fucking cold, although I’m sweating like a pig. I hate being sick. I get sick a lot, but it hasn’t been that bad in a long time.

I think Mike has infected me when he was sick two weeks ago. It wasn’t even that bad, I’m way sicker than he was. It lasted for about a week, and he has been cranky and whiny as hell. Mom says I’m no better, but I don’t believe her. I’ve been chilling in the living room in my pajamas this whole time, watching tv and being bored out of my mind. Hell, I would even do homework to pass the time, but to everyone’s surprise, dad said that I’m too sick to do homework.

Between puking my guts out in the bathroom and arguing about only eating soup and cooked vegetables, I thanked him, laughing at Mike complaining that he had to do homework when he was sick. Maybe being unable to breathe like a normal person and almost dying from headache has its’ advantages…

It’s 11 am, and I’m removing the three blankets on top of me to get up and make myself tea. Of course, mom sees me get up and tells me to go back to my spot on the couch immediately.

“Chester-pumpkin, what are you doing? You don’t have get up, just tell me what you need.”

“Just some tea, mom. I can do it myself, you don’t have to – “

“Go lie back down. I’ll make you some herbal tea with honey.” she says as she leads me back to the couch, helping me to get under the mountain of blankets.

This is how every day since last Tuesday went; she brings me tea, soup, cough syrup and everything else that I need or that she thinks I need. I’m not used to people caring for me like this. Steven would have never done this. I’m more used to taking care of myself when I’m sick. I don’t even wanna know how much money they spend on tea and cough syrup and all that stuff for Mike’s and my flu. And I certainly don’t wanna know how much money they spend on my therapy…

Mom also insists that when one of us gets sick, we stay on the couch in the living room instead of our own beds so that she can keep an eye on us. Jesus, we’re not five anymore, we’re 13…but it’s really nice that she could take a week off at her workplace in order to care for me. I never thought anyone would ever to that for me. Jason is sitting on the floor, next to the couch, and although he’s not fully grown yet, he acts like a damn good guard dog in our house.

I snuggle back under the covers and wait for my hot tea with honey, breathing through my mouth instead of my nose, which is red and hurting from all the nose-blowing. I can’t even remember what it feels like to be able to breath through my nose. I just want to sleep a full night without waking up to cough my lungs out. Or trying to cough, because I want to, but I can’t. Mom says there’s so much mucus in my lungs that I can’t cough properly. Mike has had the same problem, and that’s why she has bought this stinky menthol ointment that I’m supposed to rub on my chest and upper back. I hate that smell, it stays in my clothes even after they’ve been washed…

And here the tea comes. I’m so cold, I could bath in hot tea.

“Why don’t you put on some of that ointment? The pharmacist said that it really works, and Michael has used it, too.”

Yeah, he has. And it was so damn funny to see him argue with her about it. But not for the same reason I’m arguing. I remember laughing my ass of while mom had made Mike sit on the couch, so she could rub the ointment onto his back.

_“Mom, stop it, I can do it on my own. I’m not a baby, I don’t need help!”_

_“You can’t even touch your own shoulders, Michael. So stop making such a fuss and hold still.”_

_“God dammit I know I can’t touch my shoulders, but that doesn’t mean everyone has to bring it up all the time! And what are you laughing at, Chaz?!”_

I had been standing in the doorway, watching him getting more and more pissed off because he needed help reaching his own back, so I turned around, twisting my arms to show off my amazing shoulder and back reaching skills.

_“Chester, go make your brother some tea and quit teasing him. And Michael, it’s the first time in months that we speak about the shoulder thing. Dad can’t touch his shoulders, either, and he doesn’t get upset about it.”_

I had heard Mike grumble a reply as I made my way to the kitchen for his tea.

_“And I want tea with fruit flavor, not that disgusting sage stuff form the pharmacy!”_ Mike had yelled from the living room, but I knew I would find the biggest cup in the whole house and fill it with nice, hot sage tea.

Without surprise, Mike did the same to me when I fell sick and he was told to make me tea. As I lie on the couch, the smell of herbal tea, menthol ointment and cough syrup surrounding me, I fall asleep, snoring like an elephant. Mom said that I had to sleep a lot, so I could rest, and that’s what I’m doing because I’m too sick to do literally anything else. I faintly register that she’s stroking a hand over my hair like she did with Mike two weeks ago.

It feels nice having a family that cares about me.

xxxxx

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	13. Chapter 13

xxxxx Mike’s POV

The day we’ve all been looking forward to so long is finally here: It’s Monday morning, 7 am, which means we’ll soon be on a five hour bus ride for the class trip the whole class has waited so long for. We’ll travel back on Thursday morning, and right now, we’re having breakfast before mom drives us (yes, drives, even though we usually walk) to school with our bags for the trip.

We’re having the biggest breakfast we ever had, and mom even packs us some extra bread and fruit for the bus trip. I guess she thinks we’re not getting any food during the following days… What she doesn’t know is that we went to the grocery store near the school to buy tons of candy and potato chips with the little pocket money we get and have saved exactly for this occasion. We never have much candy at home because our parents, just like Brad’s and Rob’s parents, insist on a healthy diet…which totally sucks, in my opinion.

Chaz and I spend so much time outside, preferably in the Lincoln park, that a little candy and junk food wouldn’t hurt, but no. Anyway, we’re currently standing in the hallway, we’re ready to go, but dad isn’t done with telling us not to step out of line on this trip…damn, just because we’ve been a little, um, let’s call it ‘wild’, lately, doesn’t mean we can’t spend three and a half days without causing trouble. We don’t even _wanna_ get in trouble. The trouble finds us. Somehow, I don’t know how it happens, we always end up in it.

“And remember, if we get _one_ phone call about either of you, that person is going to be in deep trouble, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, dad” we say in our nicest voices.

“So behave yourselves, okay?” he says, helping us carry our bags to the car while we promise to be on our best behavior.

He hugs us both before we get in the car, saying that he’s gonna miss us, and then the inevitable happens, even though we’re outside, in front of the house, and anyone could walk by: He kisses the tops of our heads, and in my opinion we’re way too old for that now. It’s embarrassing, and Chaz and I both try to squirm out of his arms. But that’s just something our parents have always done, and I wish they would stop doing it…because, who knows if a pretty girl walked by? She’d think we’re babies or something…

We sit in the car, super hyped for the next few days. Chaz is even more hyped than me, because since it’s Monday, he won’t have to go to therapy today. From our spots in the car we watch mom and dad talk some more, and then they kiss before dad takes his own car and drives to work. They’ve never had any problems kissing in front of us, unlike the parents of some of our friends, who never share a lot of kisses and that kinda stuff in front of their kids. It makes me think of how they’ll react when Chaz and I have our first girlfriends someday. There’s this one girl in my class that I’ve laid my eyes on, and I know that there’s one that Chaz really likes.

xxxxx Chester’s POV

We arrive at the school, where the bus is already waiting. I’m so excited!

Although there’s gonna be school-related stuff during the next three days, Mike and I will turn this trip into an adventure. It’s gonna be three days without rules, three days of freedom. Three days without ‘Get your feet off the table, Michael’, ‘Watch you tone, Chester’, and ‘No, you can’t eat the sushi with your hands, use the chopsticks, young man’.

All the rules at home suck, but everything else is fucking awesome. Also, I’m gonna miss Jason. And I’m gonna miss the outstanding food mom cooks, and how she’s rarely angry with Mike and me. I’m gonna miss dad, too. Although he always reminds us of the rules in his house, he’s a fucking cool person, and I love them both.

The best thing about this trip is that there’s not gonna be therapy today. I can’t let anyone in my class know that I have to go to therapy, and that I’ve been going for almost a year. They would make fun of me. I’m sure they would. Mike and I almost belong to the cool guys in class. Almost. I think that’s because although we cause a lot of trouble, we still have very good grades, at least Mike, and if guys have good grades in our class, they’re not cool. Some of the other guys make fun of me, because I suck at P.E., and also a couple of other reasons. They make fun of me, never of Mike. He defends me every time, and that’s fucking great. When those guys find me alone, they push me around and sometimes they hit me. I hit them back, but they say that I hit like a girl. I’m still the smallest guy in class, and that bugs me to no end.

Most of the girls like us, though, even the two Mike and me like. They don’t know that we like them, but maybe that will change someday. I hope that this one girl thinks I’m funny and cool, even though I’m not as tall as all the other guys yet.

But let’s come back to now. I mean, sure, it’s a school trip, and we’re supposed to learn something and listen to our teachers, but there’s no way in hell Mike and me will let that happen. Screw the teachers. This is gonna be fun.

xxxxx

While Donna watched the bus drive away, she thought back to the short conversation she had had with Muto this morning while the boys had been in the car. He had mentioned some concerns on how their sons would act when the only authority figures around would be their teachers, and Donna and Muto both knew that their sons had reached an age where they didn’t want to let anyone tell them what to do. She remembered the exact words she had said to her husband this morning.

_“Come on, darling, have some faith in them. They’ll be able to behave themselves for a few days. What can go wrong?”_

xxxxx

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	14. Chapter 14

xxxxx Chester’s POV

We’re home from the best fuckin’ class trip I’ve ever been to! Okay, it was my first, but I’m sure there won’t come a better one ever again. Mike, Brad, Rob and me even managed to stay out of trouble…officially. Mom and dad don’t need to know about it. As far as I know, there was no phone call home, and the explosion there would be if they knew what happened hasn’t come yet, although we’ve been home for an hour. There’s also no need for Mike and me to show them the papers in our bags they are supposed to sign…

There was a little incident, or, should I say, a few incidents, and the teachers handed us a note about wanting to talk to our parents…we’ll just ignore it. Maybe if we don’t think about it, it won’t happen. I know that’s not how it works, and also there’s something else written on that note that can’t really be ignored, and if dad finds out about it, we’re gonna be in trouble, but for now, we’ll just try to not think about it. We’ve had so much fun during the previous days, and I don’t wanna lose that feeling.

Jason practically flipped out when we came through the door earlier; he’s missed us as much as we’ve missed him. It took minutes for him to calm down, but I’m so happy to be with my dog again. Mom has cooked Mike’s and my favorite – chicken in peanutbutter curry – with her famous recipe, and we sit at the table, telling her all the great things that have happened in the last three and a half days, leaving out the parts that would get us in trouble. Dad will come home in the evening, and we’re already so excited to tell him everything we’re just telling mom.

“So, one of the teachers, Mr. Martinez, had brought a guitar, and the first evening we were sitting around the fire and he was playing guitar and we were all kinda singing while he played, and –“

“Chester, take a breath, pumpkin.” Mom says. “Uh, yeah, anyway, Brad said that Mike and I can play guitar, too, and I said that Mike is better at it than me. Mike played guitar, and I was singing. All alone! It was so cool…we were playing the songs from the radio, and I just sang. All the girls were watching, mom! And later, the others joined in, so we were all singing together!”

“You were singing? Alone? In front of the others? I thought you hated singing in front of other people.”

“I do, but…it was just a feeling or something. It felt fucking amazing to sing in front of them!” I say, ignoring her disapproving look as I use our parents’ most hated curse word.

“And I didn’t know you were already interested in girls.” she says with a smile.

“But mooom, we’re 13! We’re not kids anymore, of course we like girls already.” Mike explains, and I think of the way she, the prettiest girl in class, looked at me when I sang.

xxxxx

That evening when dad comes home, we tell every little story we have told mom all over again, because he needs to hear them, too, of course.

“You’ve made it through three and a half days without any incidents?” dad asks, and without missing a beat, I reply:

“Sure, why wouldn’t we?”, while Mike is nodding and flashing dad his best Shinoda smile.

I feel bad as fuck when he tells us how proud he is of both of us.

We spend the rest of the evening talking about how fantastic the class trip was, trying not to tell too much so that we can avoid the dangerous parts.

Like locking the four guys who always pick on me in a closet before the evening where I was singing, and letting them out only before we went to bed. They don’t know it was Mike and me who locked them in there, fortunately, but I’m sure they’re suspecting us… Or sneaking out at night to have our own private night walk in the forest. It took Mike and me an eternity to talk Brad and Rob into it, but it was worth it. We’re also leaving out that part where I wasn’t that respectful towards the teachers, and the part where Mike was caught peeking into the girls’ shower, and Mrs. Thompson dragged him away from the door by his ear. I’ve always hated that old witch, but this, this has been funny.

There were a few other incidents, and unfortunately, we were caught in most of them. I feel so bad for lying, but is not telling something the same as lying? Dad would say yes. Mike can’t lie, and I don’t really want to. I’m almost as bad of a liar as he is, and the way mom and dad watch us telling them about our class trip makes me think they know something. They can always, or at least most times tell when we lie.

Finally, we’re done telling them about the trip, when dad asks:

“Are you sure there were no incidents? None at all?”

“Yes.” Mike answers, and even I can hear the slight crack in his voice.

I’m nodding, trying to keep a straight face, but I can feel my ears heat up under dad’s stare.

He asks because he knows us. He knows we’re a pair of troublemakers who could never behave during a few days with just teachers around.

Mom is watching as we blush and drop our eyes to the table. Damn, we need to become better liars…

“Just tell us what happened, and we won’t be as angry.” she says calmly.

Mike and I share a look before he admits that we have something they need to sign. I know this is the moment for confessing the other thing, too. We didn’t plan on telling them any of this, but now there’s no way out; they know us too well.

“Also, we’re suspended from school for a week.” I mumble, not looking at anyone but my cup of hot chocolate that I’m clutching with both hands.

I hear mom sigh, Mike gulp, and dad slowly inhale and exhale.

“And somehow you failed to mention this when I first asked you about this?” he asks, and I feel his eyes on me as I keep looking down at the cup. “Why?” he asks, “Why can’t you stay out of trouble for even a few days?”

I cast a sideways glance at Mike, who is fidgeting with his fingers and drumming them against his STAR WARS cup.

“We’re very sorry.” he whispers.

“Look at me when I talk to you, Michael.”

But he doesn’t, so I dare to look up instead.

“We just wanted to have a little fun on this trip…and…and somehow it got out of hand.” I explain. “I…I didn’t want you to know about the letter and the suspension because, um, because the last time I got such a letter…Steven had to sign it, and…and there was a parent-teacher conversation…and when we got home, he…he beat the hell out of me. I, I know that you would never do that to me…of course…but I was still scared.” I admit.

The memories of that day are still there. It was the day after I met Mike in the mall for the very first time. Mike already knows the story, my therapist as well, but I have never told mom and dad about this. I avoid eye contact as I tell them, and suddenly I feel mom take my hand and squeeze it. Dad does the same, and I hear him ask Mike to get the letters from our bags and show them to him. Mike actually gets up and practically runs from the table.

“Listen to me, son.” dad begins, “we might be angry with you two right now, but you can always tell us the truth. You know that, right?”

I nod, waiting for Mike to return.

“The truth is always the better option. Lying won’t help. And before you ask: Withholding information is also lying. If we hadn’t asked you specifically if there were any incidents, would you have told us?” he asks in a strict, but gentle voice. “There is no reason to keep things a secret in this house, because no matter how much you are in trouble, we can always talk about it and find a solution.”

I know he’s angry as fuck, so I force myself to hold eye contact and answer his question truthfully. Two minutes later, Mike returns and hands Dad and mom our two letters, waiting anxiously for their reactions. I know exactly what the letters say; I read them so often that I memorized them.

_‘Dear Mrs. And Mr. Shinoda,_

_Due to the severe misbehavior of your sons, Michael and Chester, during the field trip, I am forced to tell you that they will be suspended from school for a week and one day, starting the Friday after the trip. Also, I would like to talk to one or both of you about their behavior at school._

_Kind regards,_

_Mrs. Olivia Thompson’_

Mom and dad finish reading at the same time, and I can see that look on dad’s face that says, ‘I want to yell at you, but I won’t because it’s not right, although you would deserve it’.

Mike and I have been holding our breaths the entire time while they were reading, and now, Mom is the first one to speak, but it’s not what I expected. I’ve rarely seen her this mad at us.

“Go to your rooms, both of you. You’ll have enough time to think about what you did, because not only will you be suspended from school, you’ll also be grounded for the whole weekend.”

We stare at her in shock. We’ve never been grounded before. We had so many plans for the weekend. And a full weekend without being allowed to go out? Then a week of suspension and still having to do homework? I know she’ll make us call Brad or Rob every day to ask them what’s for homework.

Mom can’t make that decision herself, can she? Usually, she and dad make those kinds of decisions together, but one look at dad and I know he agrees with her. I expected a short scolding full of understanding and kindness, but not this.

Fuck. I don’t wanna be grounded. It’s just gonna be the weekend, but I love weekends, and I don’t wanna spend them inside.

“You heard your mother. Upstairs, now.” he says, jerking his head in the direction of the stairs.

Mike and I don’t even try to argue as we make our way to our rooms. We have a short conversation in sign language before we close our doors. It takes all my willpower not to kick the door in anger before I let myself fall onto the bed, immediately grabbing my Walkman and blasting music into my ears. I know that behind the wall next to me, Mike is doing the exact same.

xxxxx Meanwhile downstairs

“What are we going to do with them, Donna? Why are they always acting out like this?”

“They are just rebelling a little. It will pass, Muto. We just have to be patient.” Donna replied, standing up to go around the table and rub her husband’s shoulders.

He looked like he needed it today. “I’m not good at patience, you know that. Before at the table, I was so angry that I almost yelled at them, and I try to never yell. I try to be calm and hear them out, but they’re really pushing it lately.”

“I know, darling. I hope grounding them for a while will help, but I’m not sure about that. Tomorrow, I’ll call the school to set up an appointment with their teacher. I’ve seen her a few times, she’s a bit…different. Would you like to come with me or should I go alone?”

“Actually, I think I’d want to come with you. I want to hear what that teacher of them has to say. I’ve been thinking about taking the week off, because who will look after the boys when they’re not at school? I can’t always let you do that, and I’ve worked so many extra-hours lately that I can afford to take one week off.”

They talked some more, moving the conversation into the living room. Leaning back into a fluffy sofa cushion, Donna stretched out her legs into her husband’s lap. Just because there always seemed to be trouble with their sons, didn’t mean they had nothing else to do in their free time, and although they had been together for 15 years, their marriage was far from dead yet. So, the tense discussions turned into slow, but risky lovemaking on the couch.

xxxxx Mike’s POV

I’m listening to my favorite Run DMC tape on my Walkman, rapping along. I know all the lyrics by heart, and as I get more and more into the music, my anger over being grounded is fading a little. I’m getting tired from the long bus drive home and the good food, from telling all the stories and also from the confessions earlier.

I’m pressing the button to turn off the Walkman, and the tape stops. While I’m laying in bed, drifting into sleep, I faintly hear Chaz humming along to the music he’s listening to in the other room, and I think back to the night at the fire when I was playing guitar. I remember how I was watching her watching me as I played. What will she think if I don’t come to school all week? Will she look at someone else? Will she miss me?

xxxxx Chester’s POV

I hate my anxiety. It acts up in the stupidest moments. Like when I’m supposed to sleep at night. I glance at the watch on my nightstand, and I notice that it’s already 11:30 pm. I’ve been listening to music for hours, and the batteries are slowly dying. I think I might have more batteries somewhere in this room…I look at Jason the dog who’s been sleeping at the end of my bed for the past hour. I’ve been trying not to think, but that’s hard if your brain is always on overdrive.

Thinking, thinking, thinking. Overthinking. That’s what I’ve been doing for the last three hours. I’m turning the Walkman off, fidgeting with the pen I’m holding. I’m trying to write a new entry in my diary, but I keep getting interrupted. Not by my parents or Mike or even Jason, but by new thoughts and feelings. Fucking feelings. I hate them. They are too much for me.

I’m replaying the conversation Mike and I had with our parents a few hours ago. It was wrong of us to lie when dad first asked us if anything had happened. Wrong, wrong, wrong. I don’t know if he thinks about things as much as I do. I’m chewing on my bottom lip as I disassemble and reassemble the pen again and again.

For some reason, I have to think back to something that happened more than two years ago. I had just moved in here a month ago, and I was trying to do everything right, to make a good impression although they had known me for months. But since I’m accident prone, I break stuff on a regular basis. Glass, plates, vases. That day, Mike and I were unloading the dishwasher and putting back everything in the cupboards. We were joking around and in one careless moment, I managed to break a perfect white porcelain plate. It shattered into pieces on the black and white checkerboard floor. I love that floor, it looks fucking awesome.

But in that moment, I wished there was a plush carpet in the kitchen instead. Like the carpet under my bed. Dark and plushy. Yes. That would have been better. I love sinking my toes into that carpet…but I’m drifting off. So the plate shattered on the floor, leaving behind a few scratches. I completely freaked out. I was terrified. Mike and I were alone in the kitchen that day. Mom was in the garden and dad was still at work, so I hastily tried to put all the shards in the trash, leaving no trace behind.

Of course, I accidently cut myself. Mike didn’t know what to do as I was freaking the fuck out over a plate. That’s what he was saying to calm me down, but it didn’t work. ‘It’s just a plate, Chaz. Just a plate!’ He eventually ran to get mom, which made me even more nervous. When she came to the kitchen, I was kneeling between all the shards, picking them up, too focused on my task to care about my bleeding hands. I remember how she talked me down and how I found myself in the bathroom as she cleaned my hands and bandaged them. Mom’s the best nurse ever. We always have a first aid kit and bandage material in the house for emergencies like me. Sure, Mike needs her nursing skills, too, sometimes, but it’s mostly me who comes home with scraped knees or bruised knuckles.

Eventually, I calmed down enough to tell her why a broken plate is such a nightmare for me. She said that this set of plates was a gift from dad’s mother and that she had never liked it, anyway, and that I should stop stressing about it. That it wasn’t a big deal. But to me, it was a big deal. A really big deal.

Because before I moved in here, every broken plate, every broken glass, everything else I destroyed by accident or not by accident, meant getting beat up. A slap in the face for a broken plate. A whipping with the belt for spilling soda, going to bed without dinner for a week when I burned a hole in the curtains because I played with a lighter in my room. Getting yelled at for the tiniest mistakes, and getting raped in the ass when he was drunk.

I knew that none of those things would happen to me at the Shinodas’ house. I knew nobody would yell at me, or hit me, or push me down the stairs, but when I broke this plate, I was as terrified as I was when I lived with Steven. So today, when Mike and I confessed our sins during the class trip, something inside me told me that I was about to get beaten up again. And I know this doesn’t happen here. I know it, but my stupid fucking brain won’t let me forget what happened with _him._

Mike’s parents are the nicest fucking people I know, and I’m proud to call them my parents, now, too. So why, why do I keep screwing up? I’m such a loser. I hate my brain. It makes up things that aren’t there. It makes up feelings and fears that I shouldn’t have. It makes me think about things that I want to forget.

I grab my diary, scribbling down the sentences that have been on my mind for weeks in one way or another.

_All these thoughts they make no sense_

_I find bliss in ignorance_

_Nothing seems to go away_

_Over and over again_

_Just like before_

I’m trying to write a song. Dr. Baker said that apparently, music helps me deal with my trauma, and if I feel like it, I should try to put my feelings into words, and that’s what I’ve been trying to do for a few weeks now. I know it sounds stupid, but it took me a month to put together those five lines. I’m quietly singing them to myself, trying to find a melody that fits. I eventually find a fitting melody, and when I fall asleep, my mind isn’t as messed up as it was before.

xxxxx

Five days later, Tuesday Donna and Muto had just arrived at the school. Today was the parent-teacher conference with Mrs. Thompson, their sons’ class teacher. She was also their math teacher. It wasn’t the first time Donna had seen her, but she had never talked to her for longer than one or two minutes. She had always had a feeling that the teacher was a bitter old woman who hated children.

Mrs. Thompson was an older woman in her sixties, small and a little overweight, with thick dark brown glasses and brown-greyish hair. She wore a long skirt in a terrible shade of dark green, pumps in the same questionable color, and a dark grey blouse with a beige cardigan. To top it all, she wore a golden cross-necklace and golden earrings. Her wedding ring seemed to be a size too small for her finger. She had cold, strict eyes and a thin mouth with dark red lipstick that didn’t fit the rest of her outfit. They shook each other’s hands and sat down.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Shinoda.” she said.

“Likewise.” Muto replied, while Donna agreed, eyeing the teacher in front of her suspiciously. She already knew why Mike and Chester couldn’t stand her.

“May I ask: where are your sons right now? Since they aren’t with you.”

“They are at home, why does this matter? I thought we were here to discuss their behavior at school?” Donna asked.

“They are home alone? Those two? I must say, this is really irresponsible.”

“They’re old enough to be left alone for a few hours. Now can we talk about the real reason we are here, please?” Muto answered, trying hard to hide his impatience.

“Of course. I am not going to sugarcoat it: your children are an absolute catastrophe – “

“ _Excuse me_?!” Donna and Muto asked in unison.

“Chester is the personification of disrespect, and Michael is almost as bad. His grades are fabulous, not only in math, but Chester really drags him down. He’s lazy and doesn’t respect his teachers. His grades are okay, but nowhere near Michael’s.”

“Firstly, I’d like to say that I will not accept the way you talk about our children, and secondly, we do not compare them. We love them both the same and it does not matter to us who has an A on a test and who doesn’t. So, before we decide to leave, would you like to give us some examples of their disrespect? I am aware that my sons aren’t angels, but the way you talk about them is outrageous and I will not allow it.” Muto said, feeling his wife’s hand squeeze his knee under the table. _This woman is a nightmare. I get why the boys don’t like her…_

Mrs. Thompson then started ranting on and on about Mike and Chester, stating her medieval opinion on parenting without being asked, until Donna couldn’t take it anymore.

“They are just being boys. They have fun, they are wild, they test their boundaries, and yes, they might have some issues with respect sometimes, but you have no right to talk about them like this. They have decent grades, and they have a good home, and that’s what’s important!”

“Well I guess they need more boundaries, lady. Especially Chester, if I may say so.” the teacher said in a sweet voice that made Donna’s blood boil.

“No, you may not say so. He’s had a rough childhood. And before you ask: Yes, we are sending him to therapy. He gets all the help he needs.”

Their conversation was getting out of hand; Donna and Muto were ready to leave and never talk to Mrs. Thompson ever again. The way Muto saw it, she was the only one being disrespectful here. Donna was close to screaming at her.

“I will never understand why people adopt such troubled children. But I wish you all the best with yours. In the meantime, you should put some effort into teaching your sons the manners they are clearly lacking.”

“YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE LACKING MANNERS! WE’RE LEAVING!”. Donna yelled, standing up and leaving Mrs. Thompson flabbergasted.

“Let’s go, honey. Let’s just go.” Muto said, leading his fuming wife out of the room to the car as fast as possible. He was absolutely livid, but he waited until they were outside. “How _dare_ she talk like that? I am not going to let this…this _terrible_ _person_ tell me how to raise my children!”

xxxxx

Back at home, the drama didn’t stop. Donna and Muto were still talking about the conversation they had just walked out on. Coming into the living room, they found Mike and Chester sitting on the floor with their backs to the couch, peacefully playing video games.

“We’re home, guys.” Muto announced, flopping down on the couch. The meeting with the teacher had been going far worse than he could have imagined in his wildest dreams.

“So…how did it go?” Mike asked carefully.

“Let’s just say we now know why you don’t like her.” Donna said, sitting down next to her husband. “I’m not in the mood for cooking today. Let’s order in.”

“Can we order pizza? Please?” Chester suggested, asking himself why his parents looked as if they had just fought a dragon.

“Sure, why not. Where’s the phone?”

“It’s right here, dad. I called Brad because of the homework, and we already did everything.” Mike answered.

“Yeah, we can show you. And we’ve only been playing video games for fifteen minutes, I swear!” Chester said, getting up to give the phone to his father.

“You know what? It’s okay. Play as much as you want today. You’ve both been good over the weekend, and you’ve proven that you can take care of your homework even when neither of you has been to school.”

“Dad? What…what happened with Mrs. Thompson?” Mike asked.

Looking at each other, Donna and Muto decided to tell their sons everything that had happened, since they always preached that the truth was best. However, they weren’t prepared for Chester’s reaction.

“YOU TOLD HER I GO TO THERAPY?! Now she’s gonna tell all the other teachers and then the whole school will know!” Chester shouted when they were done telling how the meeting had gone. “You can’t tell that…that _FUCKING BITCH_ about my private life! Nobody at school knows that I go to therapy, this is personal!”

The room went silent. It was the first time Chester wasn’t called out on the cursing. Muto didn’t feel like saying something about it, now that he knew what kind of person his son’s teacher was. If he was honest to himself, ‘fucking bitch’ was a pretty accurate description.

“Come here, son. And try to calm down.” he said to Chester, who was nowhere near calming down.

Looking at his brother before getting up, Chester sat down on the couch between his parents.

“I’m sorry for cursing. And also for yelling…” he mumbled while trying to get a handle on his temper.

Surprising everyone, Muto said: “It’s okay. Mom was yelling, too, earlier. I guess that’s just what your teacher does to people.”

“Mom yelled at Mrs. Thompson? Really?” Mike asked, his eyes as big as on Christmas morning.

“Yes. And then we just left.” Donna replied, grinning at her sons. She knew she should have stayed calm, but the way Mrs. Thompson had talked about her children had been unacceptable. “I’m going to call the delivery service now. I always know what each of you wants to order, anyway.”

When Donna had left, Muto turned to his sons. “Listen, guys. I need you to behave at school. Your grades are really good…yes, yours, too, Chester. I don’t know if you are as disrespectful at school as she said, but I sure as hell don’t hope so.”

“Did you just swear?!”

“Yes, Michael, I did. Because it’s important for you to know that if you keep the misbehavior up, your teachers might give you bad grades just because they can’t stand you. You both are nice, kind boys, and I don’t know what makes you forget all your manners as soon as you leave this house, but I can’t allow it. And regarding what we told your teacher about the therapy – you never told us that no one knows about it. I didn’t know it was such a secret.”

“But it _is_ a secret, dad!” Chester complained.

He wasn’t ready to tell him that he was most likely to get picked on even more now. He wanted to find a solution for that himself.

“I’m sorry, son. We wouldn’t have said anything if we had known. If anyone gives you a hard time for it, just let me know, okay?”

“Okay…” he agreed quietly, having calmed down by now.

_Maybe this way I can get through to them?_ Muto asked himself. _After this horrible meeting earlier, I need to find a new way of parenting. Donna was right. She’s always right. I’ll try to be less authoritarian and more open-minded. The teacher said they need more boundaries, but I think we should actually try the opposite. Less boundaries sounds good; they’ve been overprotected for long enough._

xxxxx

**Thanks for reading. Lyrics are (obviously) taken from ‘one step closer’ by Linkin Park.**


	15. Chapter 15

_Dear diary,_

_8th grade is almost over, and there’s something I haven’t told my parents all schoolyear. I made Mike promise not to say anything about this whole thing to them, but he’s been pressuring me for months to tell them. He says I can’t fight alone. I haven’t even told my therapist. Oh, by the way, she says I’m making great progress with the anxiety. She’s right, fortunately. But back to the other thing. I don’t know why, but I haven’t written anything about it in this diary, either._

_And that’s because I’m a stupid psycho. I always do this. I bottle things up and then it bursts out of me when it’s already too late. The thing I’m going to write about today is something that I thought I left behind me when I met Mike and suddenly had friends, but no. Okay, I’ll just say it._

_I’m being bullied at school._

_And it’s not like that harmless being picked on a little by some idiots. This I can take. It’s worse, and it all started at the beginning of this schoolyear. There’s this guy in my class, Tim, and he moved here last year with his parents. Somehow, he became the leader of the group that always picked on me. Now it’s not Mike, Brad, Rob and me against the four other guys, no, it’s four against five, and that’s fucking unfair. Of course, the teachers don’t do anything, either. They never do anything, they pretend they don’t see it._

_He’s bullying a few people in our class, but I’m his favorite victim. I have no idea why. And it’s not just pushing me into lockers and talking shit about me at school. It’s the little things. It’s those little comments he makes when the teachers aren’t listening. It’s him making jokes about people who go to therapy, because, yes, of course that stupid bitch Mrs. Thompson told everyone about it. I’m so glad she retires at the end of this year. Only one month and she’s gone. Also, it’s calling me a fag when he sees me in the hallway at school. I don’t know where he gets this, but he’s telling everyone I was a fag. Stupid scumbag. I’m lucky that Mike, Brad and Rob are on my side._

_Just last week, Tim was annoying me during the break, and me and the guys were just trying to ignore him. We thought that maybe, if we don’t react, he’ll stop. Of course, he didn’t, and out of the blue Rob, the guy who is as peaceful and calm as it gets, stood up and gave him a piece of his mind. Told him to go screw himself and leave us alone. We were so proud. Because it’s not just me that Tim bullies. He insults Brad and Rob because of their religion, and he insults Mike because he is half-Asian. Somehow, the way Tim insults people reminds me of Steven. He also bullies some of the girls, whether it’s because their parents are immigrants, or because they are over-achievers at school._

_I fucking hate him. We’re standing up for each other against him, and sometimes, we to ignore him, but he just doesn’t stop. When ignoring him and his buddies doesn’t work, we try to fight them. The fact that it’s five against four doesn’t really help, and we’re always the ones who lose. I won’t be able to take it any longer. I need to tell someone; Mike was right._

_Anyway, there are good things happening at school, too. This girl in my class, Talinda, is so cute. I’ve liked her for a while now, and Mike likes her friend, Anna. She’s not really my type, but Talinda is perfect. She’s so cool and pretty. She looks like a Mexican girl with her tanned skin and dark hair. She’s smart and always nice to me, and I think she likes me, too. Last week, she yelled at Tim when he made jokes about me going to therapy. She’s the first girl I’m interested in, and maybe I’ll ask her out soon._

_That’s not the only good thing that happened lately. That reminds me – I really have to write in here more frequently…I mentioned earlier that the anxiety is getting better. Also, I’m having less and less nightmares. Sure, they happen sometimes, but not as often as they used to. I think the bullying at school prevents the nightmares from stopping completely, and maybe if I just tell someone they’ll disappear. Until next time._

xxxxx one week later

All day at school, I’ve been trying to avoid Tim, who’s sitting behind me and throwing tiny paper balls at my back. I know that the other students see what’s happening, and Mike has even turned around a few times to make him stop, but the only thing that happened was that the teachers kept reprimanding us for disturbing the class.

No one ever noticed what was really going on, because Tim and his gang are smart. With smart I don’t mean being good at school and having good grades. No, I mean that they do all the bullying when the teachers are busy and don’t look in our direction. Now it’s English class, my favorite subject, and I’m really trying to focus. When I presented the essay I wrote for homework, I could hear Tim and his friends snicker behind my back the whole time. The teacher said that my essay was really good, but all I thought about were the idiots behind me.

“Haha, did you hear what Mr. Martinez said about that fucking essay? ‘It was very emotional, well done.’! I bet this dumbass writes emotional essays because he was beat up as a kid and can’t get over it!”

Wait, how does he know that? How the hell does he know I was beaten up until I moved to Mike’s place? A second later, my question is answered.

“I followed them on their way home a few days ago, and they were talking about it. He’s been to therapy for two years, can you believe that? Such a wimp!”

That’s enough. Mike and I share a look, and I know he can tell that I’ve never been this angry in my life. We use our sign language skills to have a private conversation. He wants me to stay calm and tell our parents, but all I wanna do is beat the hell out of that bastard behind me. I can’t take this anymore, I’ve gotta do something. I hear them whisper behind our backs, and that’s when it happens. I turn around and see him laughing in my face.

“Fuck you!” I hiss at him.

Instinct takes over as I punch Tim in the face as hard as I can. His chair falls backwards, he falls to the floor, and his nose is bleeding. Shit, it’s really bleeding. It doesn’t stop. But he deserves it, I remind myself. I get up, grab my backpack and leave the room.

As soon as I slam the door behind me, I start running. I hear Mike yelling behind me, and then I hear my teacher call my name. Fuck, I can’t get out of this one. What was I thinking? Mr. Martinez is my favorite teacher, and I pull this kinda stunt in his class. My favorite class. The one where my grades are best. He’s telling me that he has no choice but to call my parents and to send me to the principal.

_Well done, Chester_ , I think to myself sarcastically.

xxxxx

While I sit in the principal’s office, telling him what happened, I think about my parents’ reaction to all this. They are gonna flip. I know it. I have to tell them the truth or else they won’t understand why I did this. Last year, dad tried a new parenting style for a few months. I think it started after that terrible meeting with Mrs. Thompson…anyway, he kinda was more easy-going with Mike and me. He didn’t scold us for every little curse word, he stopped reminding us of all the rules at home, and he was a lot less authoritarian. It was nice. They even sent us to summer camp for three weeks during the summer break. I’ve never felt so free in my whole life. Also, I’ve stopped swearing so much, at least when I’m talking to adults.

Half a year ago, mom and dad returned to the ‘old’ style, but it doesn’t really bother Mike and me. I guess dad thought that we’re not old enough for too much freedom. Okay, maybe it was the fact that Mike and me, especially me, used that new kind of freedom to be even more out of line, and they thought we need boundaries again…whatever, who knows.

I’m sitting here as I listen to the principal calling mom at work. Damn it, she has to pick us up because he wants to talk to her. Mike is waiting outside the office, he’s not allowed in for some reason. The principal is currently calling dad, and I’m nervously bouncing my left leg up and down under the table. Oh no, he wants to see dad, too. Dad can’t just leave work like this. Not for me. I’m not worth it. I mean, he could leave work, but he’ll give me one hell of a scolding when we’re home. I’ve told the principal only what was necessary, and didn’t go into details. Nothing about being bullied for months…Shit, what’s Talinda gonna think of me now?

I’m using a method Dr. Baker has taught me to calm down as I wait. _Don’t freak out, it’s gonna be fine. They’ll understand. They’ll be sympathetic when you tell them the truth_ , I think.

xxxxx

“Chester. Chester!” Dad calls behind me as I walk through the door into the hallway.

“Can’t I just go to my room?” I ask, already halfway upstairs.

“Not until we talk about this.” he says in a strict voice. “In here!” he adds, pointing his outstretched arm to the living room.

I’m freezing for a few seconds, sighing, and then I turn around, obeying and going into the living room, where I let myself fall onto the couch, crossing my arms over my chest. Mike is leaning against the wall, not daring to say anything. From the corner of my eyes, I see him bend down and pet Jason.

“I know that since the beginning of the schoolyear you both had some trouble getting along with your classmates.” dad says, motioning for Mike to sit down next to me, which he does without hesitation.

It’s true. We’ve told them about those idiots that pick on me, but we haven’t told them anything about the actual bullying.

“But I need you to tell me what happened _that made you feel like you had to hit somebody!_ ” he says, raising his voice a little at the end of the sentence.

Hitting is an understatement. It turned out that I broke Tim’s nose and all the blood soaked into his t-shirt.

“I said I was sorry!” I shout. That’s only partially true. I apologized to my parents for causing trouble once again, but I didn’t apologize to Tim, and I never will.

“You should be! Because there’s no excuse for that kind of behavior.”

I don’t react, staring at a spot on the wall behind him.

“You hear me?” he asks in a louder voice than expected, and I flinch, looking down to my black socks with blue stitching over the heels and toes.

“Muto, maybe we should talk about this later.” Mom tries to calm him down, and it seems to work, because he’s not looking so angry anymore. “Go to your rooms. We’ll call you when it’s dinner time. I have to go back to the office for a while.”

xxxxx

We’re done eating, and now it’s time for answers. Damn it. Mike looks over to me, and I slightly shake my head. He’s rolling his eyes, and I know he’s had enough.

“If you’re not gonna tell them, I will.” he says.

“Tell us what, Michael?” mom asks him, and before I get a chance to interrupt, Mike tells her and dad all about Tim and how he bullies me and some other people in our class.

He says that I punched this idiot, and also that I had every right to defend myself. Ten minutes later, he’s done explaining everything, and I’ve never been prouder of him. I should have had the courage to tell them myself, but I guess it made a bigger impact that Mike emphasized that it was only self-defense. Mom is rambling something about not knowing it had been this bad and how I should have told them and the teachers earlier.

“Is that true, Chester?” dad asks, referring to me being bullied and only defending myself when I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Y…Yes. I…I punched him, and I broke his nose. But I’m not sorry and I won’t apologize.” I reply, trying to appear confident and not breaking eye contact.

_I wish I had my anti-stress ball nearby, I’d really need it now_. Dad doesn’t say anything for a short while; he looks as if he’s contemplating how to react. Mom is already by my side, telling me that it’s alright and that I don’t have to apologize to someone who’s been this mean to me. I sign to Mike that I’m grateful he told them, and he signs back that it was about time.

“Okay.” Dad says slowly, and I blink a couple of times to make sure I’m not seeing a ghost.

Did he just say it was okay that I punched a classmate in the face and broke his nose in front of twenty-five other students?!

“What?” I ask, because as usual, I didn’t think of saying ‘excuse me’ instead.

“It’s okay that you defended yourself.” he explains. “It’s a good thing. But, Chester, you could have told us about the bullying earlier. Don’t I always tell you two that mom and I are here to support you and help you when you’re in trouble?”

“Yes…” Mike and I admit, still shocked and surprised by his reaction.

“Then why didn’t you tell us? Michael said it’s been going on since the start of this schoolyear…why did you feel you couldn’t tell us?” mom asks.

“I…I wanted to find a solution on my own. I know that it probably wasn’t right to use violence, and I know you must be disappointed in me, but – “

“Wait, wait, wait. We are _not_ disappointed. Not ever. I need you to know that, alright?”

“Alright, mom…” I mumble quietly.

“Which is why you and I are going to go to the principal tomorrow to explain your situation.” she continues. “I can switch my shift at work with my colleague, so she comes in the morning and I in the afternoon. It won’t be a problem, I’ll quickly give her a call.”

Before I can argue, she’s already on her way to the phone. Damn, I don’t wanna explain everything to the principal, or anyone else at school. Suddenly I realize that I’m still sitting at the dinner table doing nothing, while dad and Mike are washing the dishes in the kitchen and mom is on the phone. She’s always made it clear that she isn’t the only one responsible for housework. Dad can do it, too, and either Mike or I have to help whoever is in the kitchen. While she’s listening to her colleague on the phone, she asks me if I still have that free period on Thursdays between 9 and 10 am, and I can only nod as I’m thinking about all the possible ways to avoid a conversation with the principal.

xxxxx

“Are you trying to defend breaking your classmate’s nose?!” Principal Miller asks when I’m done telling him about the terrible schoolyear I’ve had and how it all lead to me punching Tim.

“Um, well, I guess...”

“What he means, Sir, is that he is sorry for what he did, but that the bullying he has suffered the whole year has left him no other option.” Mom explains as I fidget with my hands under the desk.

“Dealing with bullies is part of growing up, and – “ the principal says, and I can already feel the anger inside me that I know so well, so I open my mouth to argue, but mom is faster than me.

“Bite your tongue, Chester.” she warns me, glaring at me just like dad, saving me from saying something that I may or may not regret.

I sit back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest.

“As I was saying,” he starts again, “Dealing with bullies is part of growing up. You attacked a fellow student, and you are going to pay for it. The other boy will not go unpunished, either. I already talked to his parents yesterday. Apparently, after the incident in your English class, several other students admitted to being bullied and harassed by him, as well. There will be a meeting with his parents next week, in which the school will decide about the consequences. We have never had a case of severe bullying like this at our school.”

“So…what’s gonna happen to me now?”

“I believe writing an essay on how violence is not the right way to react, and having three days of suspension to write that essay will do.” he says, smiling at me.

_Is this a dream? Why is he so nice to me? I mean…it’s fantastic, obviously, but…why? Quick, you idiot, say thank you!_

“Uh…Thank you, sir.” I manage to get out, still unable to believe my luck. “How many pages should the essay have?”

“Two pages will be enough. You are free to go. And thank you for coming with him, Mrs. Shinoda. Every student at my school should have parents who stand up for their children.”

xxxxx

It’s been a week since the day I punched Tim in class, and somehow, the whole thing has only brought positive reactions so far. The other guys in class respect me more than they used to, and even Tim’s gang of fellow bullies has left me alone. I haven’t seen him in the previous week, and to top it all, Talinda seems to be more interested in me now.

It’s Friday, the last lesson of the day has come to an end just a few seconds ago, and we’re all stuffing our books and pens into our bags. I’m only halfway listening to Mike, Brad and Rob discuss how short the new substitute teacher’s skirt was, because something else has caught my attention.

Talinda and Anna are talking to the girls sitting behind them, and as I hear Talinda’s laugh, I’m on cloud nine. I see Anna whispering something to her, and now they’re both looking at me. I manage a shy smile, but other than that, I have no idea what to do next.

_Shit, she’s coming over! What should I do?_

xxxxx

**Thanks for reading. The dialogue at the beginning of the fourth part is inspired by 1:10 – 1:50 from Criminal Minds, season 14, episode 3.**


	16. Chapter 16

“Hey, Chester.” she greets me, and holy fuck, what the hell should I say in return?

“Um, h…hi.” I stutter.

“There’s…there’s something I wanted to tell you all week.”

“What is it?”

It’s like I’m forming words and saying them without my brain being involved…

“What you did last week…um, I mean, uh, when you hit Tim in the face, that was…that was really brave. Not many people would have had the courage to do that, you know? Most of us were too scared to say something to him, but you…well. You know what happened, you were there.” she rambles, and I can tell that she’s just as nervous as I am.

She’s playing with the pink bracelet she’s wearing on her left wrist, waiting for me to say something.

“Well, um, thanks, I guess.” is everything I can say right now, but a second later, I have an idea. It could either turn this conversation even more awkward than it already is, or it could make my day, and hers, too, hopefully, so I decide to just do it. “Doyouwannagooutwithme?” I ask quickly, because that’s what I wanted to ask her for weeks, and now might be my only chance before the summer break.

The words stumble out of my mouth, and of course, she hasn’t understood anything.

“Excuse me? I...you…you weren’t speaking so clearly.” she giggles, twisting and pulling on her bracelet.

“I...I wanted to know if you…uh, if you wanted to go out. I mean, with…uh, me.”

She’s just standing there, saying nothing, looking at me. My excitement turns into disappointment as I wait for her reply.

_She’s gonna say no. Why would she wanna go out with me, anyway? She’s so pretty, she could go out with any other boy in my class…And what would we do if she agreed? Ah, hell, she’s not gonna say yes, so why do I even think about this? I shouldn’t have asked. I’m such an idiot, I should ask some other girl. Someone who’s not the prettiest girl in class. She’s way too beautiful for me, I should just go home and dream about her in the privacy of my room._

“Yes!” I hear her say, and I’m surprised to see her smiling at me. “Yes, yes, sure!” she says again, and I’m sure my eyes light up like a Christmas tree.

“Thanks! …I mean…uh, are you free on, like, Saturday?”

_Why did I have to say ‘thanks’? Who says ‘thanks’ after ‘Yes, I’d like to go out with you’ ?!_

“You mean tomorrow?” _Saturday is tomorrow? Wait, of course it is. Today’s Friday…oh my god. What do I do now?_

“Yes. Tomorrow. If that’s okay with you.”

“Sure, I’ll, um, I’ll just have to ask my parents…” she admits, blushing a little as if it were embarrassing to need her parents’ permission. _Oh wait. Do I have to ask mine? No, I’m 14, I can do whatever the hell I want, can’t I?_

“But I think they’ll say it’s alright.” I hear her say as I think about needing anyone’s permission to go on a date.

“Great, let’s go eat ice cream or something!” I suggest. _Is this the lamest idea ever? What if she wants to do something more exciting? On the other hand, what’s more exciting than ice cream? I love ice cream. I hope she does, too._

“I’d love to. So, um, at what time? Just so I can tell my parents.”

“What about…3 pm?”

Yeah, that’s fine. We could meet in the park and then go for the ice cream.” Talinda says, biting her bottom lip just like I do when I’m nervous.

“That would be cool! Then I…I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow, Chester.” she agrees, smiling that stunning smile of hers. We return to our separate groups of friends, leaving the classroom. I hear Anna whispering something as soon as Talinda returns to her group, and I smile to myself. Finally, I achieved something.

xxxxx

Mike and the guys are staring at me in disbelief. I’m the first one of our little gang that has a date. A real date! I’m so proud that I have my first date before Mike has his. I wonder how long it will take him now to move things forward with his crush, Anna. Brad claims to have a crush on this girl in our parallel class, and I’m seriously not sure if Rob is even interested in humans of the opposite gender yet.

We arrive at home, and although I didn’t want to tell my parents much about my plans for tomorrow, I can’t stop myself once I’ve started talking about Talinda. Dad and Mike go for a walk with Jason after dinner, and mom and I do the dishes. I hate doing the dishes, even if it’s just loading the dishwasher and cleaning the dinner table, but one of us has to do it. Mom says that she doesn’t want to raise boys who are unable to manage their own household when they move out one day, so Mike and I have to help with cooking, baking, cleaning and all that. Mike isn’t even that talented at peeling potatoes, but I actually like cooking. Maybe that’s one of the reasons he is closer with dad, and I’m closer with mom.

As we clean up the table, she uses the opportunity to interrogate me about my date tomorrow and give me advice.

“Don’t kiss her on the first date; that will be too fast for her. You need to get to know each other first.”

“Mooom, please. I know what I’m doing.”

“Just trying to help, Chester. And don’t you curse.” she says while gesturing with her index finger. “Girls usually don’t like that.”

Man, I haven’t thought about that…In all the time I’ve been admiring Talinda, I haven’t heard her use a single curse word…Suddenly, I do need mom’s help. A thousand questions pop into my head, and I need someone to prepare me for tomorrow.

“What do you think we should talk about? I mean…what if I get to know her, and I figure out that I actually don’t like her as much as I thought? And what if she wants to see me again, but I don’t want to, or the other way around? What if she asks me any questions I don’t wanna answer? Like about therapy or something?”

We’re done loading the dishwasher and cleaning the table, so we go sit down on the couch. Whenever there’s discussion time in this family, it’s either at the dinner table or on the couch. I’m sitting with my legs crossed, realizing that I probably shouldn’t wear mismatching socks tomorrow. Something that has the same color would be better…

“Well, for starters, you should just be yourself. Talk about something you like talking about. Music is always a good topic. You can ask her what kind of music she listens to and tell her about the kind of music you like. Or movies, whatever you want. If there are any topics that are uncomfortable, just tell her honestly that you’d rather talk about something else. If it turns out you don’t like her as much as you thought you would, be nice to her until the end of the date and tell her that you’re not sure if you want to see her again. The key is to always be nice, Chester. Make her laugh, that’s the most important thing. And if she doesn’t want to see you again, don’t be upset. You can be upset at home, but try to accept it when you’re with her. You can always try to win her back later.”

I have never been more focused during a conversation. I’m trying to remember everything she’s said to be on my best behavior tomorrow.

“Have you given any thought to what you want to wear tomorrow?” she asks me, and I notice that I usually don’t really care about that.

Other than the realization that wearing mismatching socks could be a bad choice, I haven’t thought about what I should wear on my first date. Well, of course not. I’m a boy, and although I secretly love shopping, contrary to Mike, I don’t give much thought to what I wear once the shopping is done.

“Uh, no. Haven’t thought about that yet…” I admit.

“Certainly not this washed out shirt you’re wearing right now. You should wear something nice and clean, but don’t hide who you are. Be neither overdressed nor underdressed. And maybe not all black.”

It’s true. Lately I’ve been wearing a lot of black. Always colorful socks with weird patterns, but the rest is mostly dark colors. What can I say? I like black. Sometimes grey. A little red, too, and sometimes even dark blue. Rarely white. My sneakers are the only article of clothing that are white, anyway…I own two pairs of sneakers; one pair black and one pair white. I don’t think I own anything in bright colors except of red. Would it be weird to ask mom what I should wear? Would blue jeans and a black t-shirt be okay? Instead of deciding on my own, I hear myself say:

“What do you think I should wear tomorrow?”

Minutes later, we decide on white sneakers, dark blue jeans and my favorite t-shirt, which is mainly black with some dark red stripes. I agree to a matching pair of white socks, and to appear even cooler, I’ll wear my black cap. My glasses are something I’m a little insecure about, but mom says I should just relax.

“I’m so proud of you for asking her out, Chester. You’re growing up so fast.” she says as she hugs me.

Mike always tries to squirm out of hugs from our parents. He’s not a big hugger anymore, he thinks we’re too old and too cool for that now, but I don’t. Except if we’re outside, then I don’t like it, either. But inside the house it’s okay. When I had just moved in here, I had to get used to being hugged and kissed on the top of my head and being cuddled when I was sad and all that.

When I first got to know Mike’s parents, I realized they were different than Steven. They were nice, loving and forgiving, and they soon started to treat me as if I were their own. I knew they would never hurt me the way he hurt me, but the only form of physical touch that I ever experienced had been violence, so I was more than a little hesitant at first. I remember this one incident when I cried about something, and dad wanted to wipe the tears away with his thumb, but instinctively, I expected a slap. It took me months to understand that I would not get beat up in this house, and now, years later, I accept a hug whenever it’s offered to me.

xxxxx

The big day has come. It’s Saturday afternoon, 5 minutes to 3. I’m already at the entrance of the park, waiting for Talinda. It’s summer, and I’m waiting for her in the Californian heat. I’m sitting on a bench under a tree in my freshly washed clothes as I spot her walking towards me. She looks so cute, wearing a red dress with flowers on it, and sandals. There’s even a flower in her hair, and she’s fumbling with the same pink bracelet she wore yesterday. The dress is knee-length, and she’s carrying a small brown handbag that matches her sandals. Her finger- and toenails are painted in the color of the flower in her hair, and I bet she spent hours to look this perfect. _Focus, Chester. Be nice. Don’t curse._

“Hi, Talinda.”

“Hey.”

 _Now what? Do we hug? Mom said not to kiss. I don’t know what to do_. She’s smiling at me, so I just smile back. We walk through the park, heading to the ice cream parlor. I’m so nervous, because suddenly, all the topics I wanted to talk about with Talinda are erased from my brain.

“So, um, what do you like to do for fun?” she asks, and I struggle to find words.

A second ago, my brain was completely empty, and now, I can think of so many things that I like to do for fun…where do I start? What will sound cool to her? What will be too nerdy? Am I nerdy? No, Mike is definitely nerdier than I am, right?

“I…I like music. I’m learning guitar, and I also like singing.”

_Whyyy? Why did I say that? I’m usually so embarrassed of singing in front of people, and especially in front of just one person…_

“I know. I heard you singing on the class trip last year. It was really cool, and…um, your…I mean, um, I like your voice.” she admits, again playing with her bracelet.

“But I’m not going to ask you to sing here, because I think it would be weird for you to sing in front of just one person.”

_Wait? Did she just say exactly what I was thinking?_

“What else do you do after school? I’m sorry for asking so much, but I’m just, you know, interested.” she says, blushing.

“I, uh, me and Mike often come to this park to skate with Brad and Rob. We hang out together a lot. Also playing video games and taking our dog here.”

“Awww, you have a dog? That’s so cute!” she says.

_Now I’ve finally found a subject I can talk about for hours: my dog!_

“Yeah, his name is Jason. He’s a Labrador, and Mike and I found him in a dumpster when he was a puppy. That was like…3 years ago. We just took him home and adopted him.”

“Oh, that’s really cool! I love animals! We have two cats and 10 chickens at home. My parents have this big garden, and my dad built a chicken-coop for them.”

“You love animals, too? That’s great! If I could, I’d have a zoo at home!” I say, and we continue talking about our pets.

Quickly, the awkwardness between us disappears and now she’s so easy to talk to. I tell her more about Jason the dog and how we come to the Lincoln Park with him whenever we’ve got time to train him.

“Hell”, I say, “he’s trained so well that we could take him to those fancy-ass dog shows where dogs compete against other dogs to show which one can do better tricks and is faster and that kinda stuff. Jason would win the fuck out of that, but he’s too cool for that kinda crap.”

 _Damn it, Chester!_ I think to myself, _Four curse-words in two sentences. What is she gonna think of me now?_

Talinda is giggling at my description of Jason, so that’s a good sign, but a moment later, she says:

“You know, I really don’t like all this cursing. My parents would never allow that…”

Man, I guess mom was right. I should have watched my language…but, in my defense, we’ve been talking for about fifteen minutes, and only 4 curse words in such a long time is good for me. ‘Hell’ isn’t even a real curse word. It’s a normal word. ‘Ass’ doesn’t really count, either, in my opinion, so the only bad words were ‘fuck’ and ‘crap’. Okay, using both words in one sentence probably wasn’t a good idea, but the fact that I’ve managed to use ‘fuck’ only once in 15 minutes is kind of impressive…

Lucky for me, I’ve been to this park like a hundred times, so I know that around the corner behind those trees, there’s ice cream waiting for us. I’ve led the way and used one of my special shortcuts, and now, I know just what to say to distract her from my bad potty-mouth.

“Can I apologize with some ice cream?” I ask as we leave the huge trees behind us and the ice cream parlor comes into view. I cheekily smile at her because I think she likes it when I do that.

“Sure you can” she says, and we start looking at the flavors. Unlike Mike, who always – always – takes chocolate and lemon, I’m open to different flavors whenever I come here. I wonder what Talinda is going to want. Dad gave me some money to pay for both of us. I’m considering peppermint and strawberry, as I hear her say:

“I think I’d like cookies and banana”.

“Banana flavored ice cream? Who eats that?” I ask without thinking, but surprisingly, she’s not upset about my lack of tactfulness.

I order our ice cream, and we continue our walk until we take a seat on a bench. I know I’ve said it before, but she’s so easy to talk to, and we start to banter about strange flavors like banana or basil or something like that, which, in my opinion, only a sociopath would like, but I keep that to myself and try to make her laugh instead. As we sit down, our elbows bump together lightly. There’s a moment of silence where we both don’t know how to react, and then we just kind of giggle and keep talking.

We accidently touch several times during the date, and she seems to like it. Or at least it doesn’t seem to bother her, because I’ve got a feeling that she sometimes does it on purpose. We share our ice cream and laugh a lot, and by the end of the date we even hold hands. When it’s time to go home, I ask her if she wants me to accompany her or if she prefers to go alone, and I feel my palms starting to sweat a little.

“I’d…I’d like that. I mean if you’d take me home. That would be nice, Chaz.”

She already calls me Chaz, just like my friends, and I call her Tali, just like her friends. Man, this day has been a success. We arrive at her parents’ house, and again, neither of us knows what to do. We need to find some way of saying goodbye, but we’re both too shy to take the first step.

“It was really nice with you today, Tali.” I say, biting my lip.

“It was. Um…do we…see each other again some time?”

 _Yes, yes, yes!_ My mind screams at me, and instead of agreeing to a second date like a normal human being, I take both her hands in mine, squeeze them, and almost shout at her: “That would be great! When are you free? Tuesday after school?”

 _Damn, why is my voice always so loud?_ _I’m the loudest person I know…_ Also, I carefully avoid Monday, because on Mondays after school, I’m never free due to therapy.

“Tuesday would be awesome!” she agrees, and I remember that I won’t be at school on Thursday.

“I could pick you up, because I…I won’t be at school from Monday to Wednesday…because of…well, you know, because I attacked Tim.” I admit.

We haven’t talked about that yet, but she told me yesterday that she thought it was brave of me to fight him, so why not tell her the truth about being suspended for three days?

“It would be really cool if you picked me up after school. I’ll just let my parents know that I’ll be home later than usual that day.” she says, and I’m relieved she isn’t upset that I’m a screw-up. _Is it just me or does she like this bad boy image I have in my class?_

We say our goodbyes; I turn around after a few seconds of going in the other direction, and - what is that? - she has turned around, too, looking at me shily before she takes the key out of her handbag and opens the door.

I take the bus home, grinning like an idiot the whole time. This has been a good day. Not much anxiety, also not much cursing, and I even managed not to be accident-prone. I expected to spill ice-cream on my shirt or something, but the date has gone well. I made her laugh, and she even wants to see me again!

xxxxx

On Monday in therapy, I tell Dr. Baker all about the previous week; I tell her how my date went and that Talinda and I will have a second one tomorrow. Also, I take all my courage and admit that I’ve been bullied the whole school year.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell your parents?” Dr. Baker asks me, and I tell her exactly what I told mom and dad when they asked me about it on Sunday.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you or them, because I do. I know I had all year to tell someone, and I’m glad that Mike kept my secret. He always keeps my secrets.” I say, smiling a little.

“Of course he does. You two are closer than identical twins.” she says before I continue.

“When I punched Tim and broke his nose, I just couldn’t take all the bullying anymore. I knew there was no way for me to hide everything that had happened from my parents when the principal called them, but I was glad that Mike did the talking for me. I just…I’m not strong enough to admit such things to them. I trust them, but…”

“You think you are disappointing them, don’t you, Chester?” Silence.

“Y…yes.” I admit, dropping my eyes to the carpet.

“I am sure your parents have told you dozens of times that this is not the case, haven’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Then why don’t you believe them?”

_God dammit, I don’t know! You’re the fucking expert, not me!_

“I don’t know.”

“You do, I’m sure you do.”

“I just said that I don’t, dammit!” I say, banging my fist on my thigh.

She’s messing with my mind on purpose. Again. I hate this. She only does this to make me realize my true feelings or some crap. She starts telling me some shit about puberty hormones changing the chemistry in my brain…She’s talking about scientific stuff, explaining that those hormones are making me moody and confused. Combined with my trauma, she claims, puberty and coming of age will be emotionally harder for me than for other people.

“So you’re saying that I’m a freak? That I’m not normal? I already knew that…”

“No, Chester. That is absolutely _not_ what I’m saying. It is completely normal to feel confused about one’s emotions during that time. It’s normal to have changing moods and doubt yourself and your choices sometimes, it’s normal to be mad at your parents, mad at yourself, but what I am saying, is that the trauma you have suffered in your childhood will influence you even more now. It might be harder for you to deal with everything, that’s all I am saying.”

xxxxx

While Mike is at school, I spend Tuesday morning with writing that essay the principal wanted me to write. It’s done faster than I expected, but I guess that’s only because mom doesn’t allow me to write it in my room while listening to music on my Walkman, but sitting at the kitchen table while she prepares food. At least the radio is on…music always helps me focus.

“Done!” I say an hour after I started.

“Did you spell-check?”

“Uh, sure…”

“Alright, show me.” she says, smiling knowingly and ignoring the little obvious lie, she quickly reads the whole essay.

As expected, there are a few spelling mistakes. I hate that I’m unable to write two pages without any mistakes. Mom and dad expect us to be able to write flawlessly, even if they never say it like that. Of course, Mike never makes any spelling mistakes, but I do. They say that’s because nobody read to me when I was a kid, and because we never had any books at home, anyway, and I guess that’s right.

They say it’s not my fault, but Steven’s for being such a terrible person. Since I’ve been living here, I’m reading a lot. I like reading and writing, but my own handwriting is still unreadable to most people, even to myself sometimes. My problem with spelling is getting better though, and after I’ve corrected the mistakes mom pointed out, I can focus on my second date with Talinda later today.

xxxxx

**Thanks for reading!**


	17. Chapter 17

xxxxx 

Three weeks after my first date with Talinda, we’re officially boyfriend and girlfriend. We’re seeing each other a lot, either just the two of us or, like today, with her and my friends. I like that my group of friends has become bigger, now that there are girls involved. It’s the summer holidays, and we’re planning on spending them in the park and at the beach. There are two times of the year that I love most. The first one is December, my favorite month, and the second is the summer holidays.

The only thing that’s ruining my mood right now is Mike. He’s jealous of my relationship with Talinda, because he’s too shy to ask Anna out. I mean, yeah, he’s seeing her every time we’re meeting our friends outside, because Anna hangs out with Talinda at all times, but for some reason, he can’t just go up to her and ask for a date. He’s admiring her from afar, and I guess she’s doing the same. When they _do_ talk to each other, everyone notices that they’re avoiding the obvious question. I guess they both _want_ to ask the other out, but also, they are so nerdy and dorky that almost every conversation they have is more than awkward.

I’m really pissed at him right now, and that’s a feeling which is new to me. There has never been real jealousy between us, until now, and I hate it.

We went to the park today, hanging out with the guys and Tali’s friends. It’s getting late, and we’re supposed to be home in half an hour. The others are making their ways home, too, and I’m still sitting in my favorite tree with Talinda. It turned out that she’s just as good as me when it comes to climbing trees, which is really cool. She’s not one of those girls who are afraid to get dirty; she can climb a tree in the nicest dress and still look cool. When I’m with her, I make an effort not to use a single curse word, even if I don’t always succeed.

“Tali? I’m going home, okay? The others have already left, and I can’t be late at home.” Anna calls, and I see that she’s not talking to that one girl, Stacy, anymore like she did a minute ago.

She must have left, too, and now it’s only me, Mike, Talinda and Anna. _Wait, where is Mike? He was here earlier…_

Reluctantly, Talinda and I climb down. I know that Mike and I have to go home, too, but today, I really don’t want to. I’ve been looking for an opportunity to kiss Tali, but it hasn’t come yet. I mean…there have been pecks on the cheek and that kinda stuff, but that doesn’t count as a real kiss, does it?

“Where’s Mike?” I ask, but he’s still nowhere to be seen.

“Oh, he already left ten minutes ago.” Anna explains, biting her lips as if it were her fault that he left early.

“What do you mean he left? We always go together!”

“He…he said he needed to go and that you were too busy to care. I’m really sorry.”

I can’t believe it. This is one of the few times I’m actually disappointed in Mike. It’s not like I couldn’t walk home on my own…it’s just that we always do everything together. Everything. I didn’t want that to change, but ever since I’m with Tali, it did. I quickly say my goodbye to Anna and Talinda, kissing her on the cheek, and we all leave in different directions.

The walk home only takes about 15 minutes, but today, it feels like an eternity. All day I’ve been feeling good, and now my mood has dropped to zero. I’m angrily kicking an empty pepsi can as I walk, thinking about what I can say to Mike when I get home. Mom and dad will ask what’s wrong, too. They’ve been asking for weeks, and we haven’t given them a real answer yet. I guess they know, anyway. They know everything. Of course they must have noticed that Mike is jealous and being mean to me. My own brother, being mean to me! He can be a real jerk if he wants to…They have discussed it with us already, and Mike keeps apologizing to me, but I know he doesn’t mean it, because whenever I even mention Talinda’s name, he gets so jealous and pissed.

I’m kicking the can against the nearest tree, and that’s when I hear them.

“Look who it is! That looser Bennington!”

Fuck. It’s the guys from school who are always picking on me. Fortunately, Tim is not with them. He was expelled from school for all the bullying and harassing he did to me and the other kids. I hear them say something, but I decide to ignore them and walk faster. They’re almost behind me now, but I don’t wanna run. That would be stupid. I just wanna go home. I’m almost there. Only ten more minutes.

“Hey! We’re talking to you!”

“But I’m not talking to you. Leave me alone!” I shout, walking even faster now.

They have caught up to me, and suddenly I’m surrounded. I’m looking for possible ways to escape, but they have blocked every way. _I can’t fight them all. I can’t let them provoke me. I have to stay calm. I know that when they do provoke me, I’ll explode. I’ll get angry. I know myself, and they know me, too._

“Let me go.”

“I don’t think so.” one of the guys says.

“What are you doing here, all alone? Hu? You little fag.”

“I’m not a fag, I have a girlfriend!”

“That bitch Talinda?!”

“She’s not a bitch! Leave me the fuck alone!”

They are getting closer to me and start pushing me around. I defend myself as good as I can, but it’s four against one, and the alley we’re in is deserted. There’s no one else here. I’m attempting to punch one of them in the face, but two others have grabbed my arms and twist them behind my back painfully.

“Not so strong anymore without Mike, are you?”

I’m screaming in pain as they twist both my arms even higher, and one of them smacks me in the face.

“That’s for Tim! You got him expelled, you son of a bitch!”

_I can’t use my arms right now, but I can still kick them_ , I think. And that’s what I do; I’m kicking the guy in front of me right in the balls, and I hear him scream. He punches me, yelling something I can’t make out to the others. They push me down and I find myself laying on the ground. They let go of my arms and start kicking me instead. I’m protecting my head, trying to get up and kick them back as they hurt and insult me, but they are stronger. I’m scared. My anxiety kicks in and everything gets too much for my brain. I know this feeling; I’ve had it many times in my life, but it’s gotten much better lately.

Now, however, that feeling is coming back with full force. It’s that feeling when you are being beaten while knowing there is nothing you can do about it, so you stop fighting and hope they’ll let go of you.

Suddenly, I register that they’re gone. They must have gotten bored when I stopped struggling against them. I’m still on the sidewalk, laying on my right side, hugging my knees, and panting. I’m trying to relax my breathing before I do anything else. It’s been minutes since they’ve left, and it’s getting dark outside, so I’m attempting to get up and go home. That’s when I realize how badly I am hurt. I can taste blood, which means I probably have a split lip, and my nose is bleeding, too. I don’t think anything’s broken, though…

The rest of the walk home takes almost twice as long as usual, because I’m limping a little. I’m constantly looking over my shoulder, fearing they’d come back. When I finally arrive at home, I don’t bother searching for my key; I just ring the bell next to the door, and hope that someone opens. My hands and my t-shirt are bloody from wiping my face, my right knee hurts like hell when I try to walk, and I’m cursing under my breath because it takes way too long for someone to open this fucking door! Then, finally, Mike opens the door.

“Chaz, hi, listen… I’m – “ he stutters, but then sees the state I am in. “What the hell happened to you?!”

Without a word, I limp past him into the living room. _Fuck, I should have washed my face, mom and dad are gonna get a heart attack when they see me like this…_

“Young man, where have you – “ dad begins, and a second later, I hear him gasp. He and mom are rushing to my side, asking me what happened. Mom is pressing her hand over her mouth as if she were in shock. I spot Mike leaning against the wall, nervously watching the scene in the living room. _If he thinks I’m going to talk to him today, or anytime soon, he’s mistaken._

“Did you get in a fight again, Chester?” dad asks in a patient voice, and although I know that he doesn’t mean any harm, I’m getting angry immediately.

“WHY DOES IT ALWAYS HAVE TO BE MY FAULT? No, I didn’t get in a fucking fight, okay? I was beat up! It wasn’t my fault! _They_ attacked _me_!” I yell.

“Who is ‘they’? Who did this to you, pumpkin?” Mom asks.

_I wish they’d stop calling Mike and me ‘pumpkin’…we’re not kids anymore…_

I take a deep breath before I answer:

“The guys from school who always pick on me. They said I was the reason why Tim got expelled, and they said this was payback. It was four against one, mom, I couldn’t do anything… I tried fighting them, I really tried! But they were too many. I’m…I’m sorry.” I explain, fidgeting with the hem of my t-shirt.

There are a few blood stains on it from where I’ve been wiping my face, and I hope they can be washed out. We talk for a few more minutes before I can go take a shower, and of course, they insist on going to the doctor tomorrow to see if I have any more injuries, although I tell them that I’m fine. Dad says we should press charges against them, but I know that if I do that, they’ll give me hell at school, so I tell him that it’s not as bad as it looks and hope he just lets it go. The previous schoolyear was bad enough, I want the next one to be better.

xxxxx

As I return from cleaning myself up in the bathroom, Mike makes another attempt to talk to me, but I’m going to ignore him for the next few days. All I want to do is eat and sleep, and hopefully not having nightmares later.

I’m opening the fridge, looking for dinner leftovers. We’ve missed dinner today because we’ve been in the park all day, and now I’m tired, angry and hungry. Hangry, as Mike always calls it. Fortunately, there’s a huge plastic container with leftovers, and I take what Mike has left me, slumping down on the couch with a full plate and a fork in my hands. I know he already ate, because the first thing he does whenever he gets home is looking in the fridge. Our parents don’t usually allow having dinner anywhere else than at the table, but today is an exception. Right now, mom and dad are in their bedroom, discussing something. They rarely argue in front of Mike or me, and I appreciate the hell out of that.

So here I am, sitting cross-legged on the couch in grey sweatpants, a black t-shirt and pink polka-dotted black socks, angrily eating cold mashed sweet potatoes with broccoli and some kind of meat, staring into space. I could have microwaved my food, but I’m too angry for that, too. I’m also too angry to turn on the tv. I’m just sitting here, stabbing the poor vegetables, shoving them into my mouth without really chewing. After a while, Mike comes in, bringing me an icepack for my knee. Until now, he’s been upstairs in his room. I accept the icepack, but glare at him anyway. He’s sitting down next to me, and I already know what’s going to happen next.

"Chaz…Chester…I’m sorry about what happened to you. We should have walked home together. Maybe we would have had a change against them, then.”

I’m focusing on the rest of my food, pretending not to hear him. I can tell that he’s feeling terrible, but if anyone can pout and hold a grudge for a long time, it’s me. Of course, that’s when mom and dad come in. They watch Mike apologizing and me ignoring him for a while before they intervene. It’s already late, and my gut says that we’re on the brink of a family crisis. Everyone here makes such a big deal out of everything…and they call me the drama queen…

“That’s enough, boys. Chester, Michael is trying to apologize to you. At least hear him out, okay? And Michael, you owe us an explanation. You told us earlier that you came home before Chester because he told you he wanted to be alone with Talinda and told you to go. Don’t lie to us, Michael.” Dad says.

Mike and I share a look that turns into a death glare, and then we quickly look away from each other, not answering dad. _That’s what he told them happened?_ Fuck, I can’t take this anymore.

“God dammit, Mike! Just tell them you left earlier because you can’t stand seeing me having a girlfriend, while you’re too shy to say more than a few words to Anna!”

“That’s not true!” he immediately argues.

“Yes, it is!”

He’s about to say something, but mom interrupts us. “Calm down, both of you. We can work this out without yelling. You shouldn’t have left without telling Chester. And you shouldn’t have lied.” she says, talking to Mike.

“Damn right, you shouldn’t have…” I agree quietly.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m really sorry.” Mike says. “It’s my fault you were attacked by those guys…”

“No, it’s not.” I mumble. “They were four, and we would have been two, so maybe they would have beat up both of us. Don’t blame yourself”

_Do I forgive people too easily? No, he’s my brother, I would forgive him anything. But I’m still mad_. We’re all quiet for a little while, before I blurt out:

“Just admit that you’re jealous. I know you are.”

“I’m not jealous!”

“Sure you are! All those little comments you make whenever I talk about Tali…I hear them, you know? It fucking sucks that you’re so…spiteful.” I complain, ignoring the look my parents give me for the swearing.

“It’s just…hard for me, you know? You have a girlfriend, and I can’t seem to string words together to form a normal sentence around Anna! I don’t even know if she likes me, too.”

“Of course she does! Everyone knows that.” “So now what?” he asks, and I can feel my anger fade away. “Just ask her the fuck out!”

“Language, Chester.”

“Sorry, dad.”

“I can’t just…ask her. That would be weird, right?” Mike asks, not letting dad’s and my short exchange about the no-swearing-rule at home interrupt him. “Right?”

And that’s when mom rejoins the discussion. Apparently, she’s the one giving dating advice in this house. “It wouldn’t be weird, Michael. When’s the next time you will see her?”

“Uhh, we’re all supposed to meet at the beach in three days.” he says, and I know he’s as uncomfortable as I was when mom gave me dating advice. I haven’t told Mike about that day…

“Great! That’s a perfect opportunity to talk to her. You know, your father and I met at the beach, too. It was…”

_Oh God, not that story again_. I’ve heard it like 500 times already, and Mike even more often, but they always talk about how they met, or some other event that has happened before Mike’s birth when they want us to learn something. So I focus on the very last piece of broccoli on my plate, and watch Mike blush and ask stupid questions while mom tells him not to kiss on the first date, and for some reason, dad is smirking to himself at that moment, squeezing mom’s hand.

xxxxx Three days later (Mike’s POV)

I’m observing the way Chaz talks to Talinda. There’s something about the way he talks to girls that makes them interested in him. We’re currently hanging out at the beach, and she’s not the only girl looking at him. What is it? And how can I do that, too? Talinda brought some friends, Anna is one of them, obviously. They do everything together.

Dad went to the doctor with Chaz two days ago to find out if he has any injuries from when he was attacked by those guys. Fortunately, he has only a few bruises. Even his knee is getting better. I’m still blaming myself and keep apologizing, and he says it’s all cool between us again, but he’s avoiding me even at home. I know he’s still mad at me, and I guess I deserve it…

We brought Brad, Rob and Joe along. Even though we have just arrived here, everyone is already setting up folding chairs, towels and sunshades. Most of us are just wearing swimwear; Besides Chaz, who’s trying to cover up the bruises from the attack, Anna and I are the only ones wearing t-shirts. I’m glad that she’s as insecure as me when it comes to being half naked at the beach.

_Damn, we can’t go swimming in the ocean with our t-shirts on…what am I gonna do about that?_

With a lot of envy, I watch as Chaz spreads sunscreen on Talinda’s back. She’s giggling and doing all the girly stuff, and here I am, trying not to look stupid while setting up this damn folding chair, which is putting up quite a fight. I know Anna is watching…and oh boy, now Chaz and Talinda go for a walk on the beach, while Joe has talked the others into building a sandcastle…

_Seriously? A sandcastle?! How old are they? I have to do something…anything…to impress Anna or tell her that I like her. Something that will make her think I’m cool and mature._

“Let me do this.” she suggests while I still fight with the folding chair. I swear, this thing is somehow stuck… She looks up from the book she’s been reading, and gets up to help me with this terrible chair. Within seconds, the chair is set up, and she’s sitting down in it, grinning at me.

“Thanks” I mumble, admiring her pale skin and dark hair.

She normally has brown hair, but last week, she has dyed it black with a purple strand. I don’t know how she has convinced her parents to allow something like that…mine are already unhappy with Chester wearing either all black or something with weird patterns…I’m not sure what would happen if one of us would come home with their hair dyed, or, god forbid, a tattoo. A few days ago, Chaz mentioned that when he’s old enough, he wants to get a tattoo. Dad would never allow that…

Anyway, back to Anna. She’s wearing a purple bikini that matches the strand in her hair, and a black and white striped t-shirt. I guess she caught me staring at her, because all of a sudden, she’s talking to me.

“You know, I…I’m not really a fan of going to the beach. I just came because I knew you’d be here…and I’m glad you’re here.” she admits, blushing a little and burying her black painted toes in the sand.

“Um, I, um, I’m glad I’m here, too.” I stutter. _Damn, that’s not at all what I wanted to say…_

“You’re funny.” she laughs, because she knows exactly how nervous I am.

Finally we’re alone, and still, I can’t seem to express myself like a normal person. The guys and the rest of Talinda’s and Anna’s friends are busy with the sandcastle. Apparently, Anna is getting more confident when she’s alone with me, and without those constantly giggling friends of hers…I have to say something. Now. And so I say the first thing that comes to mind.

“I really, really like you.”

_What was that?! I really, really like you? Who says that?_

“I like you, too.” she whispers, looking down to me, because I’ve planted my ass in the hot sand after this frustrating fight with the folding chair, and now I’m sitting at her feet in my dark blue swimming trunks and grey t-shirt, while she’s relaxing in the chair.

_Wait, what?! Did she just say she likes me, too?_

“Are you sure?”

_God, Michael! What a dumb question!_

“Pretty sure, yeah.” she replies, smiling at me.

_Okay, now’s the time. Just ask her. Chester said to just ask, and mom said it wouldn’t be weird._

“So, um, would you like to go on a date with me?”

Next to us, a group of loud, annoying tourists settles down, so that Anna doesn’t hear a thing of what I just asked.

“DID YOU ASK SOMETHING?” she says, because right when I asked my question, the group next to us started playing music on their ghetto blaster…

“YES!”

“WHAT DID YOU ASK?”

“WOULD YOU LIKE TO GO ON A DATE WITH ME?” I repeat.

Unfortunately (or fortunately in this case), the group has decided that the spot next to us isn’t good enough. They move on, take their loud music with them, and everything gets quiet. So, I’m yelling at Anna if she wants to date me, and when I’m done, everyone around us stares at us. _Fuck. What have I done? What if she doesn’t want to date me, and I embarrassed her in front of all those people?_

We look at each other; the people around us look, too, and we both start laughing in order to do something during this uncomfortable silence.

“Yes….I’d, I’d like that, Mike.” Anna eventually says, and my heart practically jumps out of my chest. “Should we go swimming? I don’t like all those people looking at me.” she adds in a quiet tone.

I get up, taking her hand, and we leave the rest of our friends alone with their sandcastle. Of course, we don’t take our t-shirts off while swimming. I like her already.

xxxxx Meanwhile (Chester’s POV)

Tali and I have been walking on the beach for a while, and I guess now is the right time. We’ve been walking, swimming, talking and laughing together, and I feel like she’s flirting with me more than usual…I’ve been trying to find the perfect opportunity for our first kiss, and I think the moment has come. Although it’s almost impossible to find a quiet spot on this beach that is crowded as hell, we managed to find something that is a little more secluded.

We’re sitting down in the sand, watching some surfers in the distance. We have to be at home before it gets dark, so I have to hurry. The way back to where the others are will take several minutes, and then we have to take a one hour bus ride back home.

“Tali, um, there’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a while now, and – “

But before I can say anything further, I feel her hands on both sides of my face, and she’s leaning closer to me, and then…and then… _oh God, we’re kissing! WE’RE KISSING!!!_

Her soft lips gently press on mine, and it takes me less than a second to kiss her back. For a few short seconds, my mind goes blank. I’m not thinking about anything for once. My mind isn’t on overdrive, or stressed out, like it usually is; no, I feel relaxed. I feel great. My eyes are closed, and my whole body kind of tingles. This is new. Strange, but in a good way. Exciting. We break apart, but only for a moment. Then, it’s me who initiates the next kiss, and she accepts it immediately. Boldly, I let my tongue feel over her bottom lip, waiting and hoping for her to allow me to go further, and she does. My hands hold onto her waist, and for a long while, we just sit here, sharing shy, tentative first French kisses.

She tastes salty, like the ocean, and sweet, like the candy we shared earlier.

xxxxx

**Thanks for reading.**


	18. Chapter 18

**In this chapter, we have a time jump of one year, the boys are now 15 years old. Warning: dark themes (self-hate, self-doubt, memories of the past)**

xxxxx

_Dear diary,_

_Jealousy. Burning jealousy. That’s what I feel when I see Mike with Anna. My therapist asked me to describe my feelings, and that’s what I came up with. It didn’t work out with Talinda and me, but Mike and Anna are still together a year after their first date. They’re the perfect couple, they’re made for each other, and I am full of envy. Talinda broke up with me after five months, and it was my own fault. All of this is my fault. I’m just not good enough. In fact, I’m bad. Wrong. A failure. A freak. A loser._

_The beginning of our relationship was amazing. First girlfriend, first kiss, first time touching a girl under her skirt. We didn’t go further than just looking and touching, though. Nothing serious. Later, it became more and more clear to me that I saw her more as a friend than a girlfriend. We could talk about everything, we could laugh for hours about the stupidest shit, and I think we both enjoyed kissing, but something was wrong. There was a point where we stopped kissing and touching, and over time, I realized what was wrong with me, even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself. I still don’t. I’m glad that I still see my therapist twice a month. If I wouldn’t, I’d go crazy with all the doubt and self-hate inside of me._

_Those feelings are not there constantly, like they used to be when I was a little kid. Now they come in waves. Sometimes, I can have days, weeks even where I feel fine. And then something happens that makes me doubt myself and that voice in my head returns. It tells me to hate myself, it tells me than I’m worthless. It’s Steven’s voice, deep inside of me. I can’t get rid of that voice, it’s always with me, it doesn’t go away. Luckily, I know how to deal with those feelings now, and I even stopped having nightmares completely, which is a huge step forward. Yesterday, for example, was a good day. Relatively good. Today is a bad day, and that’s why I’m writing. I only write in this diary on bad days, for some reason…_

_The issue that I’m having right now is worse than nightmares, in my opinion. It’s the reason Talinda broke up with me. We were at school that day, and it was the break after the first two lessons. Sure, there were signs weeks before, but basically, it took her only 15 minutes to end our relationship. I remember that conversation as if it was yesterday…_

“Chaz? Can I talk to you about something?”

“Sure.”

“You…I don’t know how to say this…but you…you never kiss me anymore. You never say you love me, and I don’t think you do, anyway.”

“Tali…? What? But I do! I…I love you. See? I can say it.”

“But you don’t mean it!”

“Hell yeah, I do!”

“And I hate it when you curse!”

“I can’t help it sometimes! It just happens, and you’ll have to get used to it! I manage not to curse when I’m at your parents’ house, doesn’t that mean anything?”

“I…I…I don’t know. I’m not gonna get used to it, and I want you to stop it.”

“Fine, I’ll try.”

“Ohh, don’t you say it like that. I know you won’t try at all! And…and those rumors at school…about you being…you know…”

“What about that? You know they’re not true! How many times do I have to tell you?”

“But l…last week Stacy said she saw you looking at this…this guy, and I don’t know what to think anymore!”

“Jesus, Talinda, calm down! Please! Don’t cry!”

“I cry whenever I want, Chester! Stacy said you looked at him just like you used to look at me!”

“But I didn’t!”

“Why don’t I believe you?!”

“I don’t know, dammit!”

“Stop it with the cursing!”

“You’re not my mother, Talinda! And you know what, I can curse whenever the fuck I want.”

_She didn’t know what to say to that, so I apologized. I was always the one who had to apologize when we argued, and it fucking sucked. But nevertheless, I told her that I’m sorry and tried to take her hand, but she didn’t let me._

“Chaz…no. I…I keep hearing those rumors about you, and I’m just not sure, you know?”

“But I told you they’re all lies, Tali.”

“Did you look at him or not?”

“I don’t even know what you mean. Maybe I did, okay? What does it matter?”

“You’re admitting it?”

“You wanna know what? Yes. Yes, I fucking admit it. But it doesn’t matter, because I’m with you, and –“

_She wasn’t really listening to me anymore. I could see a change on her face, and I knew that the inevitable question would come._

“So you’re…you’re….oh my God, Chester. They are all right, aren’t they? It’s true what the other people say about you?”

“I…maybe. I’m sorry, Tali.”

“Then I guess we can’t see each other anymore.”

“What do you mean? Are you…are you breaking up with me?”

_She nodded, fidgeting with the bracelet on her wrist._

“You’re breaking up with me because you think I’m…I’m…Tali, baby, no!”

“I just think that when you think about it, you’ll see that it’s true. Deep down, you already know it is.”

“Talinda, what the fuck kinda explanation is that?! Just because some stupid bitch told you that I looked at another boy, you suddenly believe all that crap the others talk about me?”

“She’s not a bitch, she’s my friend! And there’s always some truth in rumors, and I can’t ignore that anymore! I’m sorry, Chester, but I can’t be your girlfriend anymore.” she explained, sobbing.

_And that was it. This is how Talinda broke up with me. I begged her to stay with me, but she didn’t want to. We didn’t talk to each other for weeks after that. Then one day, we had a short conversation in the hallway after math class, and she told me we could still be friends. Can you believe that?! Friends?! I liked her being my friend, but it was just so awkward between us. Plus, I still saw her every day at school. What hurt me the most was that the short period in which Mike and I both had a girlfriend now was over, and suddenly, I could relate to how he must have felt when I was with Talinda and he didn’t have a girlfriend yet. I suddenly understood his jealousy, mean comments and withdrawn behavior._

_After she had broken up with me, and obviously didn’t give me a chance to win her back, I stayed in my room a lot. I had worse grades at school than before. I didn’t talk a lot, and usually I can’t shut up. For the first time after my real mom had died, I felt heartbreak, but this time it had been a different kind. The first month was really bad, after that it got better, and then I got over it, finally. Now, one year later, we are something like friends again, but it’s still weird between us. I like Talinda, I really do, but somehow, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with her girly bullshit anymore. She could be a real bitch when she wanted to. I talked to mom and dad about it, and to Mike, but I told none of them the reason why she broke up with me. That’s my own business, and nobody else’s. I bet Talinda has told all of her friends about her suspicions, since it’s part of the daily gossip at school, but I decided not to think about all the rumors._

_The only person who knows the absolute truth about everything is Dr. Baker, my therapist. I don’t see her as the enemy anymore, like I did in the beginning. For the past two years, I’ve been completely honest with her, and it helped me a lot. I don’t have to cope with my feelings on my own anymore, and I know there’s no reason to hide things from her, because she’s there to help me. Still, it sometimes takes me months to think about things on my own before I tell her certain stuff, but in the end, I’m always honest._

_There’s something she can’t help me with, and that’s the voice in my head I mentioned earlier. I mean…it does help me to talk about the voice with her, but it doesn’t go away. The voice talks to me whenever I feel insecure about something, when I doubt myself, and then, it gives me a million reasons to hate myself. Sometimes at night, when I lie in bed, thinking about those rumors at school, and that they’re partly true, I find myself fantasizing about things that are absolutely wrong. Things that I want to happen in the future, when I found the right person for it, but that are also sick and disgusting because of what happened to me. Because of what he did to me. I’ve thought about it a lot, and I came up with something that describes how I feel about all this:_

And now you've become a part of me

You'll always be right here

You've become a part of me

You'll always be my fear

I can't separate myself from what I've done

Giving up a part of me

I've let myself become you

Give me my space back you gotta just GO

Everything comes down to the memories of YOU

I kept it in without letting you KNOW

I let you go so get away from ME

_I’ve written on those lyrics for like three months, and I’m finally okay with the result. There are some fragments that I need to put together to make a whole song, but I have no idea what I’ll do with it once it’s done. I’ve written a few songs since I started dealing with my past like this, but I’ve shown those lyrics to nobody. Something else that I want to include in this one is:_

Hearing your name the memories come back again

I remember when it started happening

I see you n' every thought I had and then

The thoughts slowly found words attached to them

_I wonder what people would think if they ever saw what kind of sick bullshit I’m writing down in this diary, but I don’t really wanna find out._

_Until next time._

I close the diary and put it in its’ usual hiding place. Going downstairs, I tell mom and dad that I’m going for a walk with Jason, and as soon as they’ve heard me say it, I’m already putting on my shoes and a light jacket. I’m putting Jason’s cool as fuck stylish black and sparkly leash on him and then we’re out the door. I couldn’t stay at home much longer, because Anna is there. They’re in Mike’s room, and I’ve heard her giggling and making obvious noises the whole time. I don’t even wanna know what they’re doing behind that wall…

Fuck, I’m so jealous.

I’m taking Jason to the dog park for like the 1000th time, but it’s fun for both of us. I’ve trained him to run whenever I run, and right now, we’re both jogging all the way to the park. I need to run until I’ve lost all that anger inside of me. Jason is a good running buddy; he’s fast, but listens to my every command, so whenever I stop, he stops, too. He doesn’t even bark at the other dogs in the park, and he’s friendly around strangers, except if he senses that a situation becomes threatening. A few weeks ago, I ran into those dickheads from school again, the same guys that beat me up last year, but this time, Jason was with me. It was fantastic; they screamed and ran away like little girls when he attacked them. Okay, he didn’t really attack them, but he barked loud as hell and ran towards them when I told him to. I could have told him to bite them, but I’m not that much of an ass, even if they would have deserved it.

We arrive at the park, and I already feel better. My thoughts drift to Mike and Anna again as I watch Jason run around with the other dogs. I’m really jealous of what Mike has with her. I bet they’re getting married one day. And here I am, wondering if I’m straight or not, while Mike got himself a goth girlfriend. Anna is not my type, but I like that she doesn’t give a fuck about what people think of her look. She always dressed in darker colors and even dyed her hair, but she went full on goth half a year ago. Dad almost got a heart attack when he saw her like this for the first time. I remember the conversation I overheard between him and mom.

_“I cannot believe that Michael has chosen someone like her. She’s…she’s not…”_

_“She’s not what, Muto?”_

_“She’s not traditional! She’s got black and purple hair, wears only dark colors, has her fingernails painted black and even wears black lipstick! If she were my daughter I would never allow her to dress like that!”_

_“Calm down, Muto. She’s a teenager. And have you forgotten that your parents said that I’m wrong for you because I’m not Japanese? They didn’t even attend our wedding because I wasn’t ‘traditional’ enough for them. I don’t think we’re in any position to judge Anna for what she chooses to wear. Plus, she’s a nice girl. She’s smart, pretty and respectful towards us, what more would you want for Michael?”_

_“I’m just saying that the way she dresses is not appropriate.”_

_“Appropriate for whom, darling? What does it matter how she dresses? Be a little more open-minded, Muto.”_

_“I’m trying, Donna. I’m trying. But I only just recently started to accept the way Chester dresses, and now that weird new hairstyle he came home with last week, a…what’s it called?”_

_“A mohawk, darling.”_

_“Uh, yes. That. It’s just that I was not raised by very tolerant parents, as you remember, and as our boys get older, they get more difficult. Michael is getting more sassier every day, and Chester has always been, how do I say this, wilder than Michael, and there’s this rumor at the law firm that one of us will be promoted next year, and I’m just so stressed out at the moment.”_

_“Shh, darling. Relax. You just need to be more open to other lifestyles. Some people like black lipstick. Some people have an unusual hairstyle. Some people are different than others, Muto. And I know we don’t talk about it often, but it was the right decision when you broke with your parents. They loved you, but I can see that their old ways still influence you today, even if it’s been such a long time. And what they did all those years ago was unforgivable. They aren’t the kind of people I would want our sons to meet.”_

_“I know I made the right decision back then, Donna. It was a tough decision, but I had to do the right thing for our little family. I’m glad I made that decision, by the way. I don’t regret it. I hate that my parents’ view on things still influences me, and I won’t deny that their way of parenting was even more old school than mine, but that’s just how it was. I miss them, but I don’t regret that decision we made 16 years ago.”_

_“You know what, honey? I’m sorry I brought this up. I know that it makes you sad and stressed out, on top of everything else right now. All I was trying to say was that maybe, just maybe, you should try to accept people even if they look a little different. Do you want to tell me more about that promotion you mentioned earlier?”_

I see Jason running towards me, and I snap out of my thoughts about that conversation from six months ago. What I overheard that night about dad’s family was all new to me, and I was sure that Mike didn’t know anything about that, either. Not being able to keep a secret like this, I told Mike all about it, and we promised each other to never ask dad about his parents. I also told him what I heard dad say about the possible promotion, and the following morning at the breakfast table, when dad said that next year, the head of his law firm would retire and someone else would be promoted to take his place, Mike and I acted all surprised.

Jason and I walk home, and I hope Anna has gone home for the evening. Our parents don’t allow sleepovers with girls, and Mike has argued with them about it more times than I can count. Now, I just want an evening of playing video games with him, and I think that makes me a selfish bastard.

xxxxx one week later

Man, I’m so proud of myself! Mike might have a girlfriend, and I don’t, but I have something much cooler: I got myself a job! I was taking a walk with Jason when I saw that the pizza place around the corner was looking for a delivery guy, and from today on, I deliver pizzas with my bike three times a week. I just went in, introduced myself and got the job, it was so easy! It brings a couple of bucks, and I can really use the extra money. I’m planning on getting a tattoo after I turned 16, which is next year. Of course I won’t tell anyone about the tattoo except of Mike, and I’ll have it on my upper back, which is always hidden by a t-shirt, so mom or dad won’t accidently see it. It’s so important for me to get one, and I know dad would never pay for something like that.

I’m turning the key in the lock, and as I walk in, I see Mike and Anna going up the stairs into his room. Fuck, I better stay downstairs until she leaves. I’m heading for the living room, but it’s empty. It’s just a few minutes before dinner time, which means mom will be in the kitchen, preparing the food. I saw dad’s car in the drive way, so he must have come home while I was out with Jason, and will be in the kitchen, helping mom. Suddenly I realize that Anna being here means that she’ll stay for dinner…

I knock on the half open kitchen door and walk in. I take a quick look around, noticing that (yay!) there’s gonna be sushi for dinner. We haven’t had sushi in quite a while, and right now, I realize that I’ve really missed it.

“Hey, Chester. What’s up?” mom says, and dad greets me, too.

“I, um, I have something to announce.” I reply, grinning from ear to ear.

“Which is?” dad asks.

I tell them everything about my new job as a pizza delivery boy, and how much money I’m going to make with that, and as soon as I’m done explaining, mom almost squishes me in a tight hug.

“I’m so proud of you, son.” Dad says, hugging me, too. “Come sit down, we’re almost done with preparing the food.”

While mom is leaving the room to call Mike and Anna down for dinner, I can’t shut up as I talk to dad, and I can tell how proud he is. During dinner, my job is the main topic. Dad is, of course, quick to remind me not to lose sight of school work, but I promise him that I can handle working on three evenings a week and still take care of homework and studying. He also has to sign my job contract for me since I’m underage, but I’m prepared. I get my backpack, the piece of paper he needs to sign, and a pen, and when he’s done reading and signing, I feel like a grown up.

I can see that Mike is a bit jealous, but that’s what he deserves for keeping a girlfriend longer than I did. I laugh a little about Anna’s inability to eat with chopsticks, and I don’t even care that she looks hurt about it. I know more than anyone else how bad it feels to be laughed at, but today, I couldn’t care less. Even the short scolding dad gives me for making fun of her doesn’t affect me. The day has been great. No, these past few days have been great. No anxiety, no trouble at school, and I even managed to get a fucking job.

xxxxx

Three weeks later, when I’m done with delivering pizzas for the evening, I’m riding my bike back home through a really questionable neighborhood, as dad would say. I have to be there at 10, so I better hurry. The next pizza shift will be taken by someone older than me, because I can’t stay out as long as I want to or legally work that long, which totally sucks, in my opinion. Also, I need to check in with my co-worker who will take the next shift at the pizzeria before I can go home. I stop at a red light and notice someone with a very familiar backpack sneaking into an alley way. Oh fuck, it’s Mike! What’s he doing there? I check my watch, realizing that it’s already 9:30.

In a matter of seconds, I decide to follow him. It’s already getting dark outside, and I really want to know what the hell Mike is doing in a dark alley way at 9:30 pm on a weekday in this neighborhood. Mom and dad surely don’t know he’s here. I’ve been following him for ten minutes now, and damn, we’re both gonna be late. I wonder how he managed to sneak out…

Since Anna is not with him, it has to be for another reason. And why did he take his backpack? Where the fuck is he going? Oh, he stopped, I should slow down. I don’t want him to know that I’m following him. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, I take a look around the corner, and what I see there instantly answers why Mike is here.

xxxxx 

**Thanks for reading.**


	19. Chapter 19

We’re in an abandoned backyard, which I would have never found out about if I hadn’t followed Mike. He’s here with his skate board, because that’s easier to hide in his room. Coming here by bike would be faster, but he obviously would have to get it out of the garage, which would make a bit of noise. As I look around the corner, I see a grey wall which is covered in lots and lots of graffiti. A closer look confirms my suspicions: the colorful art I can see on this wall is Mike’s art. The same kind of square headed monsters, animals and aliens he draws when he’s bored at school. Okay, he doesn’t only draw at school; he draws all the fucking time. He’s been getting better at it, too, and Anna adores his drawing style. She used to have a plain black backpack for school, but since she asked Mike to draw on it, she shows off her unique backpack to her friends and everyone else who asks her about it.

The wall in front of me looks like Anna’s backpack, just much, much bigger. It’s seriously amazing. He’s been talking about graffiti for months, I should have known he’d eventually do it himself. There are different styles of graffiti on this wall, and I assume those are by different artists. It also looks as if Mike has been practicing to spray here, because from what I can see it’s obvious that his art has improved. There’s a halfway finished bright red and blue octopus in the far right corner of the wall, and as I watch Mike get his spray cans out of his backpack, and then continues painting the octopus, I wonder how the hell he managed to hide this from me. No, the more important question is _why_ did he hide it from me.

Oh, look at him, he even has one of those hospital-style masks to protect his lungs while spraying. Suddenly, I realize that I can’t stay here all night. I check my watch, and – fuck! – it’s already past 10 pm. I should be home by now. Mom and dad are not gonna like it when I’m late. And, god no, my co-worker at the pizzeria, damn…

I get back on my bike and drive to the pizzeria as fast as humanly possible. As far as I know, Mike hasn’t noticed me, and all I can think about is confronting him tomorrow morning on our way to school. He must have paid for the spray cans with his pocket money, because if dad would get wind of this, Mike could expect to be grounded for, like, a month or so.

Twenty minutes later, I arrive at the pizzeria. That’s twenty minutes too late, damn it. Also, I’ll need another ten minutes until I’m home. Now I just have to get through a few minutes of getting yelled at for being late by my boss. I promise to never let it happen again, and rush home. It’s now 10:45 pm. On a Thursday evening. Fucking hell, what do I say when they ask me why I’m late? What do I say, what do I say, what do I say? My brain goes into overdrive as soon as I open the door and step into the corridor. Toeing my sneakers off and getting out of my jacket at the same time, I see Jason running towards me. I swear, he gets too excited when one of us comes home. His barking tells mom and dad that I’m home, and now it won’t be long until…

“Where have you been?”

_Damn it._

“I got held up in the pizzeria.” I lie, because I sure as hell won’t breathe a word about Mike’s secret to them.

There’s no door between the hallway and the living room, which means there is really no way to sneak out through the front door. As far as I can see, mom and dad have been chilling on the couch, watching a movie. Dad is sitting up now, looking at me sternly. They know I’m lying. They always know, because I’m the worst fucking liar in the universe.

“You’re 45 minutes late, Chester.”

“I’m sorry, dad. I know I’m late, but it wasn’t my fault. Plus, it’s the first time I’m late.” I try to defend myself, but I know they won’t accept that apology.

“It doesn’t matter that it’s the first time, son.” Mom says. “Tomorrow is school, and you better go wash up and sleep right away. Michael already went upstairs two hours ago.”

_Yeah, right. If she only knew where he is right now…_

“Listen, pumpkin. We don’t say anything if you’re 10 or 20 minutes late, but anything that’s more than 20 is not acceptable. We’re just worried, you know?” she says, and dad is nodding, agreeing with her statement.

“It won’t happen again, I promise.” I mumble, making my way to the upstairs bathroom.

_They are really overprotecting Mike and me. We can take care of ourselves, and that rule of being at home in time is stupid, anyway. What does it matter if I’m at home at 10 or 11? And I know that it’s a school night, damn it. I don’t need to be reminded of that…I should have paid attention to Mike being more tired during the last few weeks. The graffiti showed that he has improved over time, which means that he has been there a lot of times._

As I angrily brush my teeth, I decide to go into his room and search for evidence. I quietly open the door, letting my eyes wander over the chaos in here. The bed is neatly made, but that’s mom’s work. She makes our beds while we’re at school, which on the one hand I appreciate, but on the other hand I think is unnecessary because we’re not kids anymore. I notice that Mike’s room is almost as messy as mine, and suddenly I understand why mom has told us both that we have to tidy up in there. I won’t do it, though, because it’s my room and I can decide on my own what it looks like. I look at Mike’s desk, where his sketchbook is. Me and Anna are the only people who are allowed to look into it, and as I open the book and flip through the pages, I’m not surprised to find pencil drawings of the graffiti I’ve seen on the wall tonight. Some are colored, some are black and white, and the most recent drawing is the colorful octopus I’ve seen him paint earlier.

Turning around, I take a look in the drawer under his bed. That’s the place where I hide things, too, so I knew that if I want to uncover secrets, I had to look there. The first thing I see is a black and red bra. _Must be Anna’s_ , I assume when I pick it up, look at it for a moment and place it back where I found it. Smirking, I flip through Mike’s collection of playboy magazines.

_So there’s the one I lent to him last year_ …our parents would make such a scene if they knew we spend our pocket money for these kinds of magazines, but luckily the guy at the shop doesn’t care about age restrictions. I remember the last time I went there, trying to ask him for what I wanted to buy. When I was too shy to actually come out with it, he said ‘Listen, kiddo. Just say what you want, I don’t judge people.’, so I said it and he sold it to me, giving me one of those questionable magazines he sells under-the-counter.

I’m done with brushing my teeth and go back to the bathroom. Suddenly, I realize that mom doesn’t trust Mike and me to keep our shared bathroom clean and tidy by ourselves, which is why she does it for us every day after she comes home from work. After I changed into my pajamas, I return to Mike’s room and keep searching for further secrets. I find some magazines about graffiti, and also some drawings of Anna in his own comic style. The thing I’m really looking for isn’t here, but that might be because it’s in his backpack right now. I was hoping to find more spray cans, but he either carries them in his backpack at all times, or he is hiding them somewhere else than in his room. As I turn to leave, a thought crosses my mind. How did he sneak out? Mom and dad think he went to bed already, and the front door is obviously not the way to leave this house without getting caught. I realize that the window isn’t shut, but actually a crack open, and that answers my question. Looking out of the window, I see that he just has to jump from the window onto the roof of the garage, and from there onto the ground. He must have left through the garden back door, which can’t be seen if nobody is in the garden.

I close his door and enter my own room, not planning to sleep until Mike comes home. I must have dosed off a couple of times, because a sudden noise wakes me, and when I glance at the digital clock on my nightstand, the neon green numbers tell me that it’s 2:30. Straining my ears to listen closely, I hear the unmistakable sound of the window being closed. From what I can hear, Mike is using the bathroom, going back to his room, and then going to sleep, because everything is quiet five minutes after I heard him come home. I pray to whoever is listening that our parents didn’t hear the window…

When my alarm clock rings at 6:30, I’m so tired that I can’t even open my eyes. I blindly reach for it to turn it off, groaning and telling myself that I can sleep for five more minutes. I cuddle back into my warm pillow and blanket until I hear someone knocking on my door, telling me to get my butt out of bed or I’ll be late for school. It’s mom.

“I’m awake!” I shout, trying to open my eyes.

“You better be. It’s 7 am, Chester.”

_Fuuuuuck!!!_

I open my eyes, stand up and rush into the bathroom. There’s no time to shower, so I just wash my face and my armpits, style my hair while simultaneously applying deodorant, search for my damn glasses that I took off earlier, and when I eventually find them tucked into the front pocket of my pajamas, I run back into my room and get dressed. Then, I almost fall down the stairs in an attempt to get to the breakfast table. Mike is already putting on his shoes while I quickly stuff cereal into my mouth, listening to mom telling me that “this is what happens when you’re late, young man.”. Dad has already left for work, which I’m kind of thankful for, because if he were still here, I’d never hear the end of the speech he would give me.

“Are you almost done, Chaz?!” Mike asks, and I think he sounds as tired as I am.

“One minute, dammit! I gotta brush my teeth!”

And that’s what I do after I made it back into our bathroom; peeing and brushing my teeth at the same time, I wonder how Mike has even managed to get up this morning. He has to be dead tired from being away half the night. I run down the stairs for a second time this morning, put on my sneakers and grab my backpack.

“You’ve got toothpaste on your t-shirt, pumpkin.” mom says as Mike and I leave, and one look down confirms it: there’s a huge white and blue stain on my precious black Stone Temple Pilots t-shirt. Fuck it, today I’m too tired to care.

xxxxx

All day, Mike has been relatively quiet. He was being attentive at school, but it was obvious that he was as tired as me. Even Brad and Rob have asked us why we’re not constantly chatting, like usual. We haven’t talked much, although I had planned on confronting him about last night. Now we’re almost at home, and during the entire way he’s been teasing me about falling asleep in class when we were watching that film in biology. My patience is running thin, like it always is when I’ve had less than 8 hours sleep.

“I swear, Mike, stop it. I’m just tired today. Leave it alone, okay?!”

But he’s being an annoying dick today, so I have no choice but to threaten him. “One more word and I’ll tell mom and dad that you’ve been sneaking out.”

Mike stops walking, and he looks as if he’s rooted to the spot. All color drains from his face as he asks me:

“How…Chaz…what?!”

I saw you.” I explain, smirking at him.

He’s speechless when I tell him everything about following him and seeing the graffiti. When I ask him why he has kept this from me, he starts blushing.

“I, um, I _wanted_ to tell you. I wanted to show you when I had something to present, you know.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’m…I’m thinking about spraying on a, um, public wall. I don’t know yet. Somewhere my art can be seen and appreciated.”

“Like where?”

“Do you know that office building near the park? I’d wanna start there.”

“Are you nuts?” I ask as we keep walking. “That’s not as secluded as that backyard you practice in. That’s, like, a fucking public place! There are cameras everywhere!”

“So what?!” he asks me with an unfamiliar glint in his eyes, and I feel like I don’t recognize my own brother.

He’s not the risk-taker, I am. I’m the one who’s irresponsible and impulsive. The one who doesn’t give a damn about things like danger and consequences.

“I already went there and checked, there’s not a single camera pointed at the side of the building which is visible from the street. All the cameras, even the ones from the other buildings, are pointed at the entrances.”

“Mike…when did you do all of this?” “I, uh, I went there a couple of times at night when everyone else was asleep. I’m really sorry for not telling you earlier. I just…I kept getting more interested it graffiti, and at some point I decided to just do it, you know?”

“I understand.” I reply. “When do you wanna do it?”

“Tonight maybe? Tomorrow is Saturday, I don’t have to get up early.”

“Can I come with you?” I ask, because that’s something I certainly don’t wanna miss. Sneaking out at night to do something illegal, I bet that’s my thing. I can already feel the thrill in every fiber of my body.

“Sure.” Mike agrees, “but we have to be careful.”

“I only have one more question…where the hell do you keep your spray cans and all that stuff? Isn’t it too risky to hide it in your room?” “Nah, it’s not too risky. As if mom or dad would go in there and look for stuff they don’t even know about.”

_Alright, that’s reasonable. They wouldn’t do that._

“I keep everything in the drawer under my bed. Nobody would ever look in there, right?”

_Yeah, everyone but me. Fuck, I can’t tell him that._

“True.” I say quickly so he doesn’t suspect anything. “So, when are we doing this tonight?”

“Come to my room at midnight, and keep one pair of shoes in your room so you don’t have to go downstairs to put them on. Also your skateboard. We leave, get out there and spray, and then we come back home. We’ll be back home before 3 am.”

“But…how do I know what shoes to wear?”

“I don’t care, Chester! This is not a fashion show.”

xxxxx

Midnight has come, and suddenly I’m wide awake. I went to bed early so I can catch a few hours sleep before we head out. I get dressed in all black. Luckily, I have like three pairs of black shoes, so I just took the pair that fits every outfit. Opening the door to Mike’s room, I find him dressed in black, too. _Man, we look like a pair of bank robbers._ We communicate only in sign language while we take our backpacks and skateboards, and sneak out through the window. As quiet as a cat, we jump onto the roof of the garage and then on the ground. When we’re out of sight of our house, we use the skateboards to be faster, and before I know it we’re already at the building near the park. There’s nobody here at night, fortunately.

“Does Anna know you’re doing this?”

“No, not yet. I’ll tell her later.”

“Jeez, I feel so cool doing this.”

What I actually mean is that I enjoy doing something that’s a secret between just him and me, which we haven’t had in a long time. I don’t have to say that, though, because he knows what I mean. All this crap between Tali and me, and then Anna and him has almost driven a wedge between us.

We put the masks on, and Mike starts spraying. Even if I have never done this before, I’m allowed to spray a few stars and that kinda stuff around his art to embellish the green, turquoise and black square-headed aliens that are now visible on the white wall that is the side of the building. It can be seen from the street, and everyone that passes it will see our painting. We’re done and pack up our stuff when I see a police car coming around the corner.

“Fuck, Mike, it’s the cops!”

So we run. We run as fast as we can and then get on our skateboards until we’re sure the cops are gone. Maybe they weren’t there for us, anyway. At the end of the night, there’s not only the painting on the office complex, but there’s also the blue and red octopus on a wall at our school and a small spray painting of those weird squares and monsters on a traffic light. At 3:05 am, we climb back into Mike’s room, and the thrill of doing something illegal and dangerous rushes through my body. I felt so alive when we were running from the cops!

xxxxx

The next day, I sleep until noon. When I’m stumbling into the kitchen, I’m still tired because although I slept until now, I didn’t really get much sleep last night. I just couldn’t fall asleep with that much energy still inside of me. I find Mike staring into the open fridge, wearing the same weekend-morning-outfit as me. Boxers and a worn out t-shirt. The typical attire we sleep in when it’s too hot for fuzzy pajamas, which is almost every fucking night in California. From the way he looks, he must have gotten up just minutes before I did.

“Where is everyone?” I ask, slumping down on a nearby chair.

“Mom was on the phone with grandma when I came down here. They talked for a bit and then she went to the garden.” he replies, pointing in the general direction of the open glass door that leads to the garden. “And dad is in the office.”

“On a Saturday?”

“He said something about making a good impression in order to get promoted to head of the law firm next year.”

“Ah.”

Mike closes the fridge, making cereal with milk for himself and me. Mom enters the living room, taking in the scene in front of her: me and Mike, chilling at the breakfast table, silently eating cereal while sitting in the most inappropriate positions, at least in our parents’ point of view. I’m resting on my elbows, eating with my left hand, as usual, while I’m resting my chin on my right hand. Dad would tell me to sit up straight if he saw me like this. Mike isn’t any better; in fact, he’s much worse: he’s tilting his chair dangerously far backwards, and it’s balancing on two legs while the back of it rests against the wall behind him. He’s got his feet on the table, crossing his ankles, showing off two mismatching dirty socks, one grey and one white. The grey one has a huge hole just below his big toe. Mom looks at us in disbelief, shaking her head; she hasn’t seen us this quiet at the table in months.

“Did anything happen last night? If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’ve got your first hangover. And get your feet off the table, Michael.”

Reluctantly, he obeys as she sits down with us. Not waiting for either of us to answer if anything out of the ordinary happened last night, she announces:

“Grandma and granddad are going to visit next weekend, you’re going to have to clean up your rooms.”

“Why?!” I ask, looking into my bowl of cereal.

“Why what?”

“Why do we have to clean our rooms?”

“Well, Chester, because when they visit us, I want the house to look nice. Plus, it’s not as if I haven’t spent the last three weeks telling you two to clean in there.” she explains in endless patience.

“But they won’t sleep in our rooms, so why the hell would we need to clean them?” Mike asks, putting his empty bowl aside.

“No, of course they won’t sleep in your rooms. I am not going to argue with you about this.”

Mike groans, sitting back in his chair.

“When they won’t even come upstairs to see our rooms, there’s no need to clean them.” I say defiantly, and Mike agrees:

“Yeah, mine looks fine.”

“Your room is a mess. It looks as if an atomic bomb was dropped in there. And yours is even worse, Chester.”

Of course, we vehemently disagree. “Listen guys. They’ll be here all weekend, arriving on Friday evening, we’ll have a nice dinner, and I expect your rooms to be as clean as the rest of this house.”

“And are we going to have dinner in my room? No!” Mike says.

“Don’t sass me, Mr. Smarty Pants. Both of you have one week do get it done, and if you haven’t cleaned, vacuumed and tidied up every single corner of your rooms by Thursday evening, I’ll do it myself, and I’ll throw every item that I see on the floor in the garbage, is that clear?”

“Crystal clear…” we mumble in unison, not intending on cleaning at all.

We know it’s an empty threat; she would never throw away any of our belongings.

xxxxx

Thursday comes sooner than expected, and of course, Mike and I have not made any attempts to tidy up our rooms. Mom wouldn’t go in there and do it, I’m sure. She has reminded us of our cleaning duties every single day since the previous weekend, but instead of doing as she and dad have told us multiple times, we’ve been sneaking out to spray twice this week. So far, neither mom nor dad seem to have seen the graffiti in the city, even though we’ve put them in public places. They would flip, anyway. Luckily, I’ve convinced Mike to hide the spray cans in the back of his closet, which is far more secure than the drawer under the bed.

Mike’s been at Anna’s, and I’ve been at work. We’re supposed to be at home at 10 pm, and surprisingly, I’ve made it in time tonight. Mike seems to be home already, because I can hear him yelling when I open the door. Damn, what happened? I actually wanted to go to bed, I’m not ready for drama tonight. As I kick my shoes into the corner, I hear him and mom arguing. Dad is arguing, too, and I already know whose side he’s on. He and mom are a team, which means that if they have agreed on an opinion, Mike and I have no chance of winning the argument, whatever it is about.

I step into the living room, seeing Mike stand at one end of the room, while mom and dad stand at the other end. Shit, mom is holding up the stack of playboy magazines I saw in the drawer under his bed.

“What is this, Michael?”

Mike is looking everywhere but them, seeing me standing snickering to myself in the doorframe.

“I…um…they’re Chester’s!” he defends himself.

“What? Why are you lying? Only one of those is mine! And that’s the one I lent to you last year!” I shout, immediately regretting what I said, and face-palming myself inwardly. Why can I never shut up?

“I don’t care whose they are! You two are way too young to have these kinds of magazines. Where did you even get them?” dad says, and both me and Mike drop our eyes to the floor.

“Those things give you a fake idea of sex and relationships. I hope that’s not what you expect of Anna.” Mom says, addressing Mike, and I actually feel bad for him.

His cheeks are dark red in shame, and he doesn’t know what to do. This conversation is going in a whole different direction than I thought. I expected them to chew us out for looking into those sinful magazines, but apparently, the evening is turning into one of ‘Mom Shinoda’s talks about relationship advice’. They already gave us ‘the talk’ last year, and it was one of the most embarrassing conversations of my whole life. Now that I think about it, our parents have never given us the impression that sex and that kind of stuff is something shameful. They’ve been open and honest about it whenever we had a question. I realize that Mike is only yelling because he’s embarrassed. He’s covering up his embarrassment with anger and defiance, like I do.

Dad is going into the kitchen, sighing and getting a glass of water, while mom keeps waving with the magazines, telling us that they don’t show the reality, and suddenly I realize that the naked woman on the front cover doesn’t seem as appealing to me as she did a year ago.

“This is not what real women look like, Michael.”

“I knooow…” he sighs, rolling his eyes.

“Because when you do have sex someday, the most important thing is protection, I want you to know that. And don’t expect her to be like those easy girls in the magazines.”

“Oh my God…” Mike mumbles as he reaches a whole new level of blushing. “Anna and I…we’re…we’re not having…you know what, never mind.”

“Good. Because you’re too young, anyway. Now go to your rooms, both of you. It’s late.”

“Wait!” he says. “What gave you the right to invade my privacy like that? How did you even find the magazines?!”

“I told you that if you don’t clean up the chaos in your rooms, I’d do it. I put all those clothes that were laying on the floor into the hamper, and everything else went into the drawer under your bed. Also, you’re lucky I haven’t asked you about that bra I found.”

“What about Chester’s room?” he asks, ignoring the comment about Anna’s bra in his drawer.

“I went to your room first, that’s your disadvantage. Now get upstairs. And Chester, I’ll come check in your room in 15 minutes, and you better have tidied up in there by then.”

A sudden realization hits me. When they react like this to Mike’s magazines, I better don’t let them find the ones _I’m_ hiding. I don’t wanna have to explain them. I go upstairs, finding Jason the dog sleeping on the end of my bed. I start collecting all the dirty clothes on the floor and throw them into the hamper in the bathroom. _Man, that’s a lot of black_. I hear mom and dad still argue with Mike, and I think that it’s a good thing we’ve moved the bag with the spray cans and the masks to the back of his closet. If they still were in the drawer and mom would have found them…I’d rather not think about that.

Once the clothes are out of the way, I tidy up my desk, stuffing my school books into my backpack and onto the desk, neatly organized. There’s still a mess on the floor. I find one of Talinda’s hairbands, a long lost homework folder, and various other things that I just throw in the trash bin under my desk. Now that I’m at it, I organize the drawer under my bed, deciding that I need to find a more secure place for the magazines. I’m slightly hysteric, thinking about a safe place for them. As I kneel on the floor between various items that I got out of the drawer, deciding whether to throw them away or keep them, Mike bursts into the room, kicking the door shut.

“She threw them away! Can you believe that?! …wait, what’s that on the floor?”

“Um, that’s…that’s nothing, Mike. N-nothing to see here.” I stutter, knowing that he certainly saw what I’m currently trying to hide.

He kneels down, too, taking one of my magazines and flipping through them, looking from them to me, his mouth open. I can’t breathe. On the one hand, I’m glad it’s out now, and on the other I’m terrified of his reaction. Well, at least it was him finding them, and not mom or dad.

“Chaz…those…those are _men_.” he says, pointing at the barely clothed people in the magazines.

“I can see that.” I reply quietly, avoiding eye contact.

_Okay, now’s the time, I have to talk to someone about this._

“Mike, um, what would you do, like, how would you feel if, like, you know, one of your close friends came out and was like…bi?” I ask, being super nervous.

He thinks for a second, and I’m holding my breath as he smiles, and says:

“It would be…cool, and it would also be cool if that person turned to me and said they are gay.”

“Hell no, I’m not gay.” I reply, still not sure what I am exactly.

“Whatever. It’s just…I’m fine with it, okay?”

I look out of the window, smiling. That’s the end of the conversation; that’s all it took. I can feel the weight being lifted from me, it’s gone. This is such a special moment for both of us. We grin at each other, and I feel so much better.

“Thanks.” I whisper.

xxxxx

Five minutes later, we have hidden the magazines in the back of my closet, and when mom comes to check on my room, it’s tidier than any other room in this house, but I know that by the end of next week, it will have returned to its’ normal, messy state again. I sleep well that night, because finally, I’ve told the truth to someone other than my therapist, and I’m glad that Mike has accepted it so easily.

xxxxx

**Thanks for reading. Most of Mike’s and Chester’s conversation is taken from this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=99WKhEcmyk4 (original story starts at 11:45).**


	20. Chapter 20

Three months later, Mike and I have been out to spray almost every week. The distance between us is gone, we’re closer than ever before, and now it’s me and him, spraying graffiti on buildings all over the city. Usually, we leave at midnight and are back home at around 2 or 3 am. We’ve been careful to spray only on buildings and in parts of the city where mom and dad won’t see, at least not likely, which means not on buildings that are on their way to work, and not anywhere else they could see.

There have been a few really dangerous situations, and a couple of times we actually ran from security guards and cops, but we always arrived at home safely. The most dangerous stunt we pulled was last week, when we had the bright idea to spray on the side of a train. Said train is now painted in green, blue and red, showing a few cartoon animals and square-headed monsters with teeth and large eyes, embellished with cool outlines and stars around Mike’s art. When we were done painting, we heard the train station security guys yell at us, and one of them called the cops while they were chasing us, but we managed to get away in time. I hope there were no cameras…

We’ve also been in that backyard Mike has been practicing in, because he said I had to practice a bit, too. He taught me all he knows about graffiti, and since I’m a quick learner, I soaked up the knowledge about colors, outlines and shading like a sponge. My drawing style is different than Mike’s, but it looks equally weird. I like it.

The octopus he painted at the school soon attracted many visitors, and Anna made a total scene when she saw it. A few people recognized the graffiti as Mike’s, but luckily, only friends of ours, so that no one told our parents or teachers. Anna said it was too dangerous for us to sneak out at night and do this, but Mike told her that we can take care of ourselves. She refused to talk to Mike for a week, but eventually, they made up. Brad and Rob said it was one of the coolest things we had ever done, but of course, they were too scared to join us. They are nice guys, and we are troublemakers.

As far as I know, mom and dad have absolutely no clue that we sneak out once a week, sometimes every two weeks, when it’s too risky to do it every week, and I hope they never find out about it. We’d be in so much trouble. Our life at home has been really harmonic and peaceful, but we kept feeling bad for lying to our parents. Although we don’t get much sleep, we’ve been doing well at school, even me. Last Christmas, we both got a small stereo, and mom and dad soon regretted it, since they have to tell us to “turn that terrible music down!” almost every day. Mike and I often get the same thing for Christmas, which is totally awesome. Firstly, because it makes me feel like we’re actually twins, and that would be fucking cool, and secondly because there are certain things that Mike and I just cannot share. We share a fucking lot, but there are things he and I have to have for ourselves. Also, we always wish for the same things, anyway.

Right now, Mike and I are in the garden, playing fetch with Jason and discussing the next place to spray at. When mom enters the garden, we quickly switch to sign language.

“What are you two signing about? You’ve been so secretive for months, what are you hiding?” she asks, and we do our best to keep a straight face.

“Nothing, just school stuff” Mike lies, and I’m nodding, confirming his excuse.

I hate lying to our parents, but sometimes it’s necessary. Mike and I both know that she knows we’re lying, and we feel bad about it already.

“Listen guys, I know you’re hiding _something,_ and it has nothing to do with school. Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that if you’re honest with your father and me, we won’t be angry – “

_Yeah right,_ I think _. Not in this case…_

“ – Or at least less angry than if we find out you’ve been keeping a big secret and have been lying about it. So just tell us, okay?”

“I swear, mom, it’s nothing. We are not keeping secrets.” Mike says, looking her straight in the eye while telling her the biggest lie since the creation of lies.

We are keeping at least two secrets. The first is the one with the graffiti, and the second is the one about me liking both girls and guys. Okay, guys a little more than girls. Nobody but Mike and my therapist know about it, and I’d like to keep it that way until I’ve figured out if I’m only bi or actually gay. I’m just not sure, and I need more time to think about it. Oh, actually, there’s one more secret, but it’s just a small one. I won’t go into details, but even though it’s not as big as the others, we would be in deep trouble if it came out.

Mom stares back at Mike, knowing that he’s not telling the truth. I’m chewing on the inside of my cheek, trying not to be so obvious about my nervousness while I pet Jason, giving all the responsibility to Mike.

“Alright. Whenever you decide to tell me, I’m here. But don’t wait too long, boys.” she says, giving us a knowing look.

I feel so bad. We can’t tell our parents about this, but we can’t keep lying, either. So what do we do? I have no idea.

xxxxx

That week, we don’t sneak out. Neither the week after that one. The next week we do, and it’s one of the biggest mistakes we ever made, because just like every other secret we ever kept, this one was bound to come out one day. We’ve been getting careless, taking more risks, because the thrill of doing something so dangerous is addictive. Spraying on public buildings, running from cops, the risk of getting caught, it was what we were looking forward to all week.

Tonight when we leave through Mike’s window, I slip and don’t land on the roof of the garage as silently as planned. It makes some noise, but we tell ourselves that it’s not loud enough to be noticed, so we do what we always do: leaving the garden as quickly and quietly as possible. Hours later we’re done with our painting – a huge cat in an astronaut’s suit, surrounded by alien heads – on the back of our school’s gym, so we head home. It’s almost 2 am, and since it’s Friday night, we can sleep as long as we want tomorrow morning. Spraying on Friday nights has become our favorite. Mike spends the evening at Anna’s parents’ house while I’m at work. We come home at about the same time, pretend to go to bed, and at precisely 00:05 we leave the house.

We’re currently climbing back into his room. I’m first, and I see an orange spray can lie on the floor. It’s the one we wanted to use for the cat earlier, but couldn’t find. It must have rolled out of Mike’s backpack by accident.

“Man, that was close…” he states, climbing in behind me, finding me standing still although I’m a little out of breath from the adrenaline. I’m staying silent, waiting for Mike to enter his room and see why I didn’t answer him. While I’m trying to prepare myself for what’s about to happen, I remember that when we were just packing up everything, an older lady who was walking her dog, saw us with the spray cans still in our hands. She started yelling something about criminals and punks, and before we even realized what was happening, she set her dog on us. Crazy bitchass grandmother. Who even walks their dog this late at night? If we hadn’t had our skateboards, we’d be dog food by now.

“Chaz, what is going…?” he asks as he reaches the window and looks into his room.

It’s dark in here, but the door is open and there’s light in the staircase. It’s shining into the room, and we can see mom and dad sitting on his bed, apparently waiting for us. Fuck. We really screwed up this time.

“So there you are.” Dad says, and I hear Mike curse. Other than that, we’re completely quiet, looking at each other. I’m chewing on my bottom lip while Mike is fidgeting with the strap of his backpack.

“When I asked you what you were hiding, and you said you weren’t keeping any secrets, you lied to my face, Michael.” Mom says, looking at Mike who is now focused on his black sneakers.

_I can’t tell how they’ll react once we come out with the truth. They must know the truth now, anyway. An abandoned spray can on the floor in the middle of the night, and a half-open window have already told them what’s up. Will they yell at us? I don’t think so, they’ve never done that before. On the other hand, this is the biggest screw-up we’ve ever been caught in, so maybe they will. Will they send us to bed and lecture us in the morning, or will they do it right now, even though it’s past 2 am? I’m not tired, I’m wide awake, which is a mix of adrenaline and shock. Fuck, what do we do? What are they going to say? And why do they look so calm?_

“Answer your mother, Michael.”

“Um…yes. We, uh, I…what I’m trying to say is…”

“Yes, we lied.” I admit, speaking for Mike because he clearly can’t right now.

Mom and dad share a look before dad inhales and exhales slowly, while mom is sighing and shaking her head. I can see that they’re disappointed in us, even though they always claim that nothing we could do would disappoint them, and that they’re always proud of us. Mike and I drop our backpacks onto the ground.

“A few days ago, I was at the office, and when I looked out of the window, I saw a train in the distance. There was graffiti all over that train, and I thought it looked like your drawings, guys. I recognized the style right away, but I told myself that this couldn’t be true. I thought that my sons were well raised, even if they’re out of line sometimes, but they wouldn’t do something like that. So when I went home that evening, I talked to your mother about it, and she agreed with me. It must have been a coincidence. It couldn’t be true.” dad explains.

Suddenly, Mike and I both are very interested in the floor in his room while we listen to dad.

“Earlier tonight, we heard a noise, and since it was around midnight, I went to check.”

I’m biting my lips, ignoring Mike’s sideway glance at me. That noise had been my clumsy ass, tripping and landing on the roof of the garage like a drunk elephant.

“Imagine my surprise when I found both of your rooms empty, a spray can on the floor and an open window.” dad continues.

Mike sits down on his desk, while I plant my ass on his office chair. I have the same one in my room, and for some reason, I have to hold back a grin as I think of the time Mike and I raced through the hallway on our office chairs while mom and dad were shopping for groceries. Why do I have to think of that now? _This is not the time, Chester_. I scold myself. I swear, I would be one of those people who burst out laughing at a funeral. That’s me. Thinking of funny stuff in the most inappropriate moments.

“Care to explain yourselves?” dad asks

“Not really.” Mike replies in a tone of voice I would never dare to use with mom and dad.

_Man, sometimes he can really be a sassy brat._ I shake my head, not saying anything. What the fuck do they want us to explain? It’s obvious. And that’s what I decide to say, as stupid as it is, but I can’t help myself. Stupid fucking psycho brain.

“What the fuck is there to explain?!”

“Excuse me? There is a lot to explain, Chester.” Mom begins. “For instance why you two lied to me when I asked you about it. Or why you thought it was a good idea to sneak out in the middle of the night!”

“And watch your language!” dad adds.

Normally, I would have said ‘yes, dad’, and maybe answered their questions, but not now. Now Mike and I are in full rebel-mode, so I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, young man. When we ask you a question, we expect you to answer, is that clear?”

Apparently, Mike thinks no one notices, but I can clearly hear him mumbling ‘is that clear’ under his breath, mocking dad. We both kinda giggle quietly until it all comes to an end.

“Alright, you two. We are _done_ joking around. I want answers. Now. How long has this been going on?”

“How long has what been going on?” Mike asks innocently with his big puppy eyes.

“My patience is running thin, Michael. Now, how long have you been sneaking out at night to do graffiti, and how often did you do it?”

We realize that we can’t avoid this conversation; we have to tell them the truth. Mike reluctantly begins to explain, and whenever he’s hesitant to admit something, I’m doing the talking. Ten minutes later we’re done explaining, and from the way mom and dad glare at us, I’m certain they are ready to ground us until we’re 18…we have left out everything that has to do with running from police, dogs and security guards, because mentioning any of these things would just be an unnecessary risk.

“So you’re telling us that you snuck out for months to vandalize buildings all over the city? In the middle of the night? Are you insane?”

“Wait, wait, wait…’vandalize’? Dad, this is art! We’re not vandalizing anything!”

“It might be art, Michael, but you cannot put it on public buildings! Not on trains, not on houses, not anywhere.”

“Did you never even think of how dangerous this is?” mom adds, and suddenly we realize that we didn’t really think about anything. Of course, she’s not done yet. “What were you thinking, painting on other people’s properties? On your school? What if you were caught? What if anyone had seen you? Did you never think of the consequences?”

“We, um, actually we didn’t think it would, um…” I try to justify what we did.

“That’s right, you didn’t think!” dad says, and I drop my eyes to the floor. Damn, he’s right.

“And what does it matter if we sprayed at the school? There’s a lot of graffiti, anyway. Other people do it, too!” Mike says, but I already know what their answer is going to be.

“I don’t care what other people do! I care about what you two do! You could have been arrested, you could have been shot! If other people would jump off of a cliff, would you do it, too?” “Mooooom, come on, there’s no reason to be so dramatic…” “Yes, there is, Michael.”

Now it’s his turn to drop his eyes. Man, we both feel bad. It’s 2:30 am, and we’re having a family crisis. But since I can never shut up when I should, I say:

“This is stupid, I’m going to bed…”, and get up to leave.

“Not so fast, young man. Sit back down and empty your backpack. You too, Michael.”

“No.” he simply says, and the both of us don’t make any attempts to do as we’re told.

“No?” dad repeats, raising an eyebrow.

Now he and Mike just stare at each other; Mike is challenging him in a way I would never do. I’m actually getting a bit tired, and I know everyone else is tired, as well. Who can blame us? It’s so late that it’s almost early. Mom is sitting on the edge of Mike’s bed next to dad, and she’s looking at all of us expectantly. She wants Mike and me to behave, for once. I know how worried she must be about Mike and me.

I watch as Mike gives in, breaking eye contact and looking out of the window for a second, chewing on his bottom lip. He pulls at the zipper of his backpack, and I do the same. We know when we lost an argument. Mom and dad make us hand over all the spray cans, and I couldn’t be angrier than I am now. Looking over to Mike, I realize that he feels the same as me; overtired and annoyed as hell.

“You know what we’re going to do with those, don’t you?” mom asks us.

Mike and I nod, but we’re not done disagreeing yet.

“You can’t throw them away! It’s not fair!” Mike argues.

“What you did was illegal, don’t you understand that? And no matter what you say, it is vandalism!” dad explains.

“So what?!”

“This is _criminal_ , Michael! You are not going to do this again. You won’t sneak out anymore, and you won’t do graffiti anymore. For once, listen to what I say.”

“I DON’T GIVE A FUCK WHAT YOU SAY!” Mike yells.

He rarely yells. He doesn’t wanna admit it, but he is a lot like dad. Calm and collected. Reasonable. Unlike me, Mike sometimes thinks before he speaks. Not in this particular moment, but usually, he does. I wear my heart on my sleeve and I say what I think. Across the room, I hear mom gasp, and for a split second I think dad is going to slap him. _Of course he won’t,_ I remind myself. _Our parents don’t do that._

“What did you just say to me?” dad asks calmly.

His voice might be calm, but the glare he sends Mike is furious. Mike doesn’t answer. He looks at me for support, but all I can do is shrug my shoulders. It would be too risky to sign something, so instead I just fidget with my fingers, wishing I had my anti-stress ball. And I’m not even the one in trouble right now.

“I’m sorry.” Mike mumbles, but it’s obvious to all of us that he doesn’t mean it.

“You know what, why don’t we continue this tomorrow?” mom suggests. “We are all tired, so let’s just sleep and clear our heads. Yelling at each other won’t get us anywhere.”

Everyone agrees, even Mike, who looks like he is going to punch a hole in the wall the minute mom and dad leave his room. I guess he’s just angry because he thinks dad doesn’t appreciate his art and says it’s vandalism…

“Fucking finally…” I whisper to myself as I make my way to my room.

“This doesn’t mean you can get out of this, Chester.” Mom reminds me, “You know you two made a mistake by doing what you did, right?”

I grumble a reply and shut the door a little too forcefully.

xxxxx

Two weeks later, Mike and I are still grounded. That was one of the punishments for the whole sneaking out and ‘vandalizing’ buildings thing. Two more weeks and we’ll be free again. The first day after mom and dad confronted us about everything, we had another talk about it in the morning, and it ended with Mike yelling, me slamming the door of my room, and then the both of us having to stand in the corner for thirty minutes. Standing face first in the corner is the only childhood-punishment they still give us, because, as dad always says ‘if you behave like a child, you get punished like a child’…oh man, that sucks. We had a much calmer conversation afterwards, but it still sucked that they grounded us for a month – a fucking month! – and threw away all the spray cans.

Dad said we would deserve community service and remove all of the graffiti…I guess that’s the lawyer in him. Always wanting to do the right thing. Always being on the right side of the law. He’d flip if he knew that we ran from the cops more than once. Later he patiently explained to us why graffiti is vandalism, and that we wouldn’t want our house being painted by strangers, either. He told us that he and mom do appreciate mike’s and my art, and that they do know how passionate Mike is about all of this, but that what we did was wrong. It must have cost him a lot to be so patient with us after how we behaved in the night before, and that’s what I appreciate. I think that what pisses them off the most is that we lied to them…lying is the one thing they really hate.

Mom said that we’re lucky we didn’t get caught by the police or anyone, and it took Mike and me a whole lot of strength to not look at each other guiltily. We didn’t really get caught by anyone, but we sure as hell ran a few times. We’re not gonna mention it, though…

It fucking sucks that all we can do is going to school and coming home. Now mom or dad are the ones who go on a walk with Jason, whereas it’s usually me or Mike who do that. I can leave the house for work and therapy, while Mike has to stay at home all the time after school because he doesn’t have either of those things. He’s fucking fuming, even though he knows that therapy is not really my favorite thing to do. It means that I get to leave the house, which makes him fucking jealous. We can’t visit friends, we can’t go anywhere. After the first week, they were allowed to visit us, though.

Anna gave Mike a piece of her mind and said that she told him all along that doing graffiti was dangerous, although she thought it looked cool. I think dad likes her a bit more by now. He sees that she’s smart and reasonable, and maybe he can overlook the fact that she ‘dresses too revealingly with those too short black skirts’ and ‘inappropriate dark lipstick’. His words, not mine.

During the time Mike and I are grounded, we haven’t exactly been easy. There are little things we do to rebel against mom and dad, which go from simply listening to too loud music in our rooms, to doing the complete opposite of what they told us to do. Currently, mom is on the phone with a friend of hers in the garden while dad is walking Jason. Mike and I were told to do the dishes and then clean the dinner table, but of course, we don’t plan on doing any of those things. No, we have bigger plans. Since I plan on getting a tattoo shortly after my 16th birthday, I asked Mike to draw something cool and unique I can show the tattoo artist so he can just copy it and put it on my upper back. There are five new drawings in his sketchbook, and one of them will become my first tattoo. Once I have decided on one, he’ll draw it in full size. I saved almost all of the money I earned with my pizza delivery job, and I’ll spend it on the tattoo.

xxxxx 2,5 months later

It’s 5 am on a Sunday morning, and I’m padding barefoot into the kitchen to get a glass of water. I’m wearing only the boxer shorts I’ve slept in, because I’m planning on going back to bed as soon as I have the water. Nobody else is here, so I’m not risking anyone seeing the two small colorful Japanese dragons that are tattooed a few inches below my shoulders. Usually, nobody gets up before 9 am on a Sunday in this house, anyway. After pouring the water into the glass, I sleepily put the bottle back into the fridge and take a sip from the glass.

“Please tell me those aren’t real.”

_Fuck. Fucking hell. I really should have worn a t-shirt._ I carefully place my glass back on the kitchen counter in order to avoid breaking yet another kitchen item in this household. I turn around and give dad my most innocent look. He’s in his dark blue pajamas, crossing his arms over his chest. I know his opinion on tattoos, but I decided to get one, anyway. Two, actually. Mike designed those dragons, and I love them to no end. I’m definitely getting more tattoos when I grow up.

“What’s not real?” I ask, leaning against the countertop, biting my lips.

“Chester Charles, you know what I mean.”

I take a few seconds to think about my answer. Of course I know what he means. I just thought I could hide the tattoos for longer than two weeks. Of course, nothing stays a secret in this house.

“Yes, they’re real…” I mumble, avoiding eye contact.

“And you didn’t think to ask me first?!”

“Uuuum…” _Oh boy, he’s really angry. I haven’t heard that strict tone since Mike and I were grounded…_

“Well?”

“You would have said ‘no’ anyway, so I just did it without asking.” I try to defend myself.

Sighing, he leans against the door frame. “How did you even manage to get it done? You’re underage!”

“The guy asked if I were 18, I said yes, and that was enough for him.”

“You don’t look 18.”

“So what? He didn’t care.”

“That’s against the law. That guy could go to jail for tattooing minors.”

“Come on, dad, not everything is about the law and rules and that kinda stuff…”

“You still shouldn’t have gotten a tattoo.”

“I can decide that by myself.”

“No, you can’t, Chester. You’re not as adult as you like to think. You’re 16 years old. 16. And you’ve been 16 for all but 2 weeks. 16 is not 18.”

“Who cares?!” I snap angrily.

“Listen to me.” he says, crossing the room. “You are not getting another tattoo before you’re 18. You legally need my or your mother’s consent if you want to get one, and if we say no, you have to accept it.”

“But – “

“No buts, Chester. If you would have asked me first, I certainly would have said no. You cannot make such a decision on your own yet, and even though you don’t agree, you’ll have to wait until you’re 18. Until then you’ll accept a no, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, dad…”

He is now standing next to me, inspecting the brand new tattoos on my back. He’s getting a glass of water, as well, and shakes his head a little. I know he disapproves, but I’ll defend my decision.

“They look like Michael drew them.” he comments, and I nod.

“Um, yeah, he did. Please don’t make me get rid of them. I paid for them with my own money. I didn’t even use any of my pocket money, only what I earned at the pizzeria, I promise.”

“Well, how much did you spend?”

“Do I really have to tell you?”

He raises one eyebrow and I know that that’s a ‘Yes, and you better tell me the truth.’

“200 Dollars…” I whisper, not looking at him.

“Excuse me?! You spent 200 Dollars on _this_? How about saving the money for something important? And look at me when I talk to you!”

“To me, this is important! I always wanted to get a tattoo, and I don’t care if you don’t approve of it!” I almost shout, even though it’s only 5:30 in the morning and everyone else is still sleeping.

“Keep your voice down, son. It’s too early for this. You know what? Get dressed and come back here, then we are going to talk more about this. I’m making breakfast.”

And so, I go back to my room and get dressed in pajama pants and a black t-shirt. Making my way back down to the living room a little reluctantly, I smell bacon and eggs. I know dad is mad at me for getting the tattoos. A few minutes later, he serves breakfast and sits down with me.

“Do you want to know what bothers me about tattoos, Chester?” he asks, and I nod, sticking my fork into the scrambled eggs. His voice is calmer now, and he doesn’t sound like he’s gonna disown me anymore.

“In Japanese culture, tattoos are considered a taboo. Ordinary people do not have tattoos, because only members of the so called Yakuza mafia have them.”

“I…I didn’t know that.” I reply, because I seriously had no idea. I want to argue that all of this doesn’t apply to me because I’m not Japanese, but I decide against saying that.

“I don’t like the fact that you got a tattoo, but I can’t change it now. I want you to know that it was a bad choice to do it behind our backs, and if I could, I would forbid you to get another one even after you’ve turned 18.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you first.” I mumble into the cup of tea standing in front of me. “But, uh…if I would get another one when I’m 18, would you still be disappointed in me?”

“Oh, Chester, it’s not about being disappointed. I don’t know what your mind is telling you, but neither I nor Donna will ever be disappointed in you. Being angry for disobeying the rules or doing something you’re not supposed to do is not the same as being disappointed. Now eat up, you’re too skinny.” he says with a smile, and later he continues explaining things about Japanese culture I have never heard about.

I wonder if Mike knows all this stuff about dad’s country. We eat a lot of Japanese food at home, Mike speaks Japanese fluently and mom and I know a few phrases, too, so we could communicate if we ever got lost in Japan, but now that I know the reason why dad is so against tattoos, I feel kinda bad about getting the dragons.

“To answer your question, son…I admit that it would upset me if you got another tattoo, but once you’re 18, it won’t be my decision anymore. It’s not _your_ decision now, but it won’t be _mine_ then, so when the time has come, you can do whatever you think is right.”

_Wow,_ I think. _That’s not at all the answer I expected_.

“Uh, thanks.” I say.

“I have one more question about this.” Dad begins, and I think I have a pretty good idea of what he’s gonna ask. “When did you get the tattoos? They look pretty fresh.”

Again I’m biting my lips, not wanting to come out with the truth. “The day after my birthday. I had made the appointment weeks before, because I knew that you and mom wouldn’t be at home until later that evening. Mike came with me to the tattoo shop because he wanted to make sure that the dragons looked cool enough, and, um, to be honest, when you asked us what we had been doing all day, and we said that we were in the skate park with Jason…that was a lie.” Before he can say anything, I continue. “I’m sorry for lying, but I really planned on keeping the tattoos a secret. I know it was mistake to lie.”

He takes a few moments to think before he answers. I’m chewing on my bottom lip, and I can feel a blush creep up my cheeks as I clutch the cup with both hands.

“Yes, it was, Chester. But I’m going to give you a pass on this, because you’ve been honest about it now. I think you really know you made a mistake, and I appreciate that you didn’t spend your pocket money on the tattoos, but the money you earned yourself.”

“Thanks.” I say for the second time this morning, and I really mean it.

This conversation turned out better than I expected. Suddenly, Mike stumbles into the kitchen, and I can see he’s still halfway asleep. Well, it’s like 6 am on a Sunday, who wouldn’t be tired?

“Morning.” he says, sitting down at the table. “I woke up.”

“Because you smelled bacon?” dad continues his sentence, and I’m laughing so hard that I’m spitting the tea back into my cup.

“Yeah…” he admits while I’m wondering which one of us is grumpier in the morning. I come to the conclusion that it’s definitely Mike, and not me. That’s when mom enters the kitchen, looking more awake than all of us.

“I woke up and you weren’t there, honey.” she says, sitting down next to dad and kissing him on the cheek.

_Someday I want to have a relationship like they have_ , I think to myself.

“Why are you all up so early? I thought we wanted to have breakfast together?” she asks, and dad and I exchange a look before he replies. “Well, someone decided to get a tattoo without telling us and we had to have a little talk about it.” dad tells her, and she immediately looks at me, because who else would be the one getting a tattoo in this house?

“You did what?” mom asks, and I tell her everything I just told dad, while she’s making breakfast for herself and Mike, since dad and I already ate.

When I’m done explaining, dad tells her how he feels about it. While they’re talking about whether dad’s view on tattoos is close-minded or not, Mike and I argue about his role in all of this. He claims not to have known anything about how tattoos are viewed in Japan, and that he wouldn’t have encouraged me to get the dragons done if he had known. A second later, dad is in full lecturing mode, telling us about the origins of Japanese culture and everything else he thinks we need to know.

_Oh boy, why didn’t he become a history teacher? Never mind, I got away with the tattoo, and that’s what’s important. It makes me wonder how they’ll react when I come out about that other secret of mine…_

xxxxx

**Thanks for reading!**


	21. Chapter 21

_Dear diary,_

_I’ve met someone. A boy. Oh my god, I’ve met a boy and I think I have a crush on him!_

_But let’s start at the beginning: A month after my birthday, I was delivering pizzas in a neighborhood I had never been to before. As I was riding my bike down the street to find the right address, I passed the place I’ve been going to every Wednesday for the last six weeks. I debated with myself for a while whether to do it or not, since it had to be a secret. There was no way I could tell anyone about this._

_Well, except of Mike of course. I needed mom’s or dad’s signature to become part of the group I wanted to join, but just like me, Mike didn’t think this was something we should tell our parents. So he did what he’s been doing since he was 14. If one of us needed a signature for something we couldn’t possibly tell mom and dad, for example something school-related that would get us in trouble, Mike faked dad’s signature. He’s been doing it only a few times over the last two years, but I gotta admit that I see no difference between dad’s real signature and the fake one. Mike says that it’s not even a ‘real-fake’, because he’s ‘M. Shinoda’, too. I don’t think mom and dad would see it that way, though…_

_Anyway, without a second thought Mike signed the piece of paper I gave him, and since then, only he and I know about my secret Wednesday activity. That’s where I’ve met my crush. He’s so cute, and I think he likes me, too. He and I are the only boys there, the rest are girls, which isn’t really a surprise, considering what we are doing there. It’s a typical girls thing, but it’s fun, and I have a feeling that it kinda helps with my anxiety, too. I told mom and dad that I’m working an extra shift every Wednesday, so they don’t question where I’m going from 4 to 6 pm._

_Yes, Mike and I do feel bad for the little lie, but I really don’t want them to know about this. Every Wednesday, I’m home at 6:30, and so far, neither mom nor dad have been suspicious. I have to pay 25 Dollars each month for my secret Wednesday activity, but luckily, that’s no problem, because I can pay with the money I earn at the pizzeria, and with my savings from my pocket money. Being independent and paying with my own money feels fucking awesome. Oh, by the way: Mike got himself a job, too! He teaches math to students who aren’t that good at it, and he helps them with their homework and preparing for exams. He’s been a tutor for about one and a half months, and I know that mom and dad are proud that now both of us have a small job._

_But back to the boy I like: we’ve talked a bit, and it turns out that he moved here with his parents last school year, and he goes to the same high-school that our friend Joe goes to. They know each other and they’re best friends, isn’t that a coincidence?! Hopefully we can all hang out together one day. So, his name is David, but everyone just calls him Dave, and for some reason he prefers to be called Phoenix, which is a weird nickname, but I like everything that’s weird. He’s a red head, he’s about my height, we have almost the same taste in music, and his parents are really catholic, that’s what I’ve found out so far. He’s catholic, too, but not as much as the rest of his family._

_He said it was a fight to convince them to allow him to be a part of the group we go to every Wednesday, but they eventually allowed him to go. I wrote earlier that I think he likes me, too, but I’m not a 100 sure. If his family is as catholic as he says, he might not have come out yet. Now that I think about it, I don’t really have a reason not to come out to my own parents. They’re pretty cool, actually, and they’re not religious, so why shouldn’t I tell them? I think mom would not have a problem with it, but dad might not be cool with it. I’ll just wait for the right time…_

_It’s three days until next Wednesday, and I’m already nervous. I go there by bike after I’ve come home from school, and I shower when I come home, washing the clothes I wear there in the shower, so nobody sees them. I really don’t wanna have to explain them. Now that we go to high-school we have to take the bus every day, and I have to hurry a bit, but nobody has noticed yet. The teacher at my secret Wednesday activity is a woman in her 50ies who is pretty fit for her age, and she’s not judgemental at all against boys in her class. I like that. It feels good not to be looked at weirdly for doing such a girly thing as a boy, and at least I’m not the only boy there._

_It was obvious that Mike was a bit critical at first, but I told him just to sign and shut the fuck up about it when he saw what it was he had to sign and burst into laughter. He hasn’t said a word about it since then, which I really appreciate. If and when things move forward with Dave, I’ll tell him about it, though. He knows that I’m bi, or gay, or whatever it is that I feel for boys, but he doesn’t know about Dave. The only person I’ve told about all this is my therapist. I’ve kept it a secret for a few weeks, but during the last session, she said that she sees a change in me, and then it all burst out of me and I told her everything._

_I told her about being confused about my sexuality, about where and how I met Dave, and that I have a tiny crush on him, and also that sometimes at night when I think about other guys and I touch myself, I feel so guilty afterwards. I feel guilty and dirty and disgusting and ashamed of myself, because what I feel for guys, and not girls, is wrong. It reminds me of Steven and what he did to me. When I was younger, I didn’t quite understand why he did what he did, but now I know. He was a pedophile; he was a man who was turned on by little boys, and he used me for his needs. I’ve known for a few years now, because it’s all I can think about in some nights._

_It’s been getting better, but lately I’m asking myself if he somehow ‘turned me gay’ with what he did. I know that that’s not how it works. That being gay is not a choice and that actually, there’s nothing wrong about it, but sometimes I hate myself for being like that. Dr. Baker says I have no reason to feel guilty, and that it’s normal to be confused about this at my age. She said that I can only overcome my doubts by talking about my feelings. That bottling things up and overthinking them on my own is the wrong way. I came up with a few more lyrics to that song I’m writing, and I think those lyrics really describe how I feel right now, and about Steven’s role in all of this:_

Nothing ever stops all these thoughts and the pain attached to them

Sometimes I wonder why this is happenin'

It's like nothing I can do would distract me when

I think of how I shot myself in the back again

_So, that’s it for today._

_Until later._

xxxxx Monday Mom

and I are preparing dinner while Mike is upstairs with one of his math students, helping her prepare for the upcoming exam. Anna is crazy jealous of every other girl Mike talks to, but he bought her a black and purple bracelet with the money he earns as a tutor, which calmed her down a little.

Thirty minutes later, all the vegetables are sliced, the salmon is sizzling in the pan and the rice is boiling. Mike’s math student leaves, and a little while after that, dad comes home. He’s been working a lot of extra hours lately, and has been going to the office to go over cases even on some weekends. One of the lawyers working there is going to be promoted this month, and with a bit of luck, the law firm dad works at will have the name ‘Shinoda’ in it.

“I’m home!” he calls from the hallway, and mom is already on her way to him, leaving me in charge of the cooking.

She knows I could cook dinner for 20 people all on my own, anyway. A second later, I hear her squeal, and I know dad has got the promotion! After turning the burner down so that the food doesn’t scorch, I join them in the hallway. Alerted from all the noise, Mike comes downstairs, too.

We’re all standing in a small circle as dad tells us that he’s now one of the two heads of the law firm, which will now be called ‘Connor and Shinoda’. We spend all evening talking, laughing, and eating. It’s one of those occasions when I realize how lucky I am to be a part of this family. The atmosphere is so warm and lighthearted, something I never had a s a kid.

“So when are we gonna celebrate?” Mike asks.

“I believe Friday evening would be fitting.” Dad answers. “We’ll have a nice dinner at the ‘La Providence’."

“Isn’t that a bit…pricy?” Mom asks hesitantly, although we’re all used to going to fancy, expensive restaurants once in a while.

“Is that French food?! I’m not gonna eat frogs and snails, dad! No way!” Mike complains while I’m making a face at thinking about eating snails.

“Ew! I’m not eating that, either! Can’t we just have sushi?”

“Seriously, you guys…Firstly, I heard they have great food. French food is more than just snails and frogs, Michael, you’ll see. And Chester, we have sushi at home a lot, we can try something new every now and then. Secondly, it’s not too pricy. We can afford it now, honey. Plus, I got the promotion, so I choose where we go for dinner, okay? It’s not as if we went to those kinds of restaurants every week. Oh, and…Chester, you’re going to have to get a haircut.”

“What?! No!” I instantly argue.

“You’re not going to set foot in that restaurant with a mohawk, young man.”

“Then why the hell do we have to go to such a fancy-ass restaurant?!”

“Because I said so. We will all dress up and look nice, do I make myself clear?”

_I don’t want to, but I can’t ruin this for dad. He just got the promotion he has worked for so hard, and I’m ruining the good mood with my stubbornness,_ I think, stroking absently over my dark brown mohawk that’s styled to perfection. We’ve already had a fight when I got that hairstyle without warning anyone. Then last month, I thought it was a good idea to get neon green tips in my hair, because it looks fucking cool. Now that I think about it, I wonder why mom and dad let me walk around like that for so long without sending me to the hairdresser…

Again, I didn’t tell anyone about dying the tips green. Mom and dad were livid when I came home that day. They said something about having to ask before dying my hair…it was the same as with the tattoo. Deciding something on my own without asking. _Why the fuck do I need permission for everything, anyway? I’m almost 18, god dammit!_

“Well?” dad askes, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Fine, I’ll do it…” I mumble, glaring down at my hands. “Thank you.” he says, and the tone he uses makes it clear that if I don’t go to the hairdresser before Friday, he’ll probably sit me down and cut my hair by himself.

xxxxx Tuesday

Very unwillingly, I’m making my way to the hairdresser. Dad told me to ‘get a decent haircut’, and that I shouldn’t ‘dare to get any color in it’…man, that sucks. I know exactly what he has in mind. Something normal. Something that doesn’t look anything out of the ordinary. Also, I don’t go to the hair salon I’ve been to the last two times; no, dad gave me a bit of money and told me to go to _his_ usual hairdresser.

Half an hour later, I chain my bike to a tree and go in. I feel kinda stupid walking into this fancy place that smells like perfume and overpriced shampoo. The people in here look like they wipe their asses with 100 dollar bills, and this is one of the moments where I realize that, yes, my parents are rich. I live in a rich family, and yet mom and dad didn’t raise Mike and me as spoiled brats. Okay, we often go on vacation during our school holidays, and we basically have everything we want, but they never gave us the impression that we’re somehow better than other people because of that. It’s a harsh contrast to living in the trailer park, but I got used to it pretty quickly.

When I finally get to leave this awfully luxurious hair salon, I feel like I could smash my fist into a wall. My beloved mohawk is gone, as well as the green tips, and instead my hair is short and back to its’ natural brown and a little curly state. I could scream. I look so nice, so well-behaved, almost prissy. I need to do something to not look so normal. Don’t get me wrong; the haircut itself is perfectly fine. It’s just not crazy enough for my taste.

Fuck, tomorrow is Wednesday! What will Dave think? He liked my style. He said that it makes me look wild and exciting…

xxxxx Wednesday

Yay! Finally it’s Wednesday again! My new favorite day of the week. I’m looking forward to my secret Wednesday activity all week and I’m always so excited at school that sometimes I don’t pay attention and Mike has to kick my leg under the table to snap me back to reality. I think I’m gonna tell him that I have a crush on a boy. He’s gonna be fine with that, I already know it. I’m currently riding my bike to the one place I’m never late to. I’m early; every time.

At 5:30 pm, the class is over, and I have time to talk to Dave again. The past hour we have exchanged meaningful glances and shy smiles whilst trying to keep up with the class. We’re both pretty good already, but 15 minutes ago, he tripped and almost knocked over a girl because he was so focused on watching me.

“Alright, that’s it. You guys can exchange glances later. Pay attention to your surroundings and straighten your back.” the teacher has told him, while I was biting back a grin. She and all the girls in class know that there is something between me and him, and none of them seems to mind. So for the rest of the lesson, we gave our best in class, and tried not to stare at each other’s butts.

“What’s with your hair, Chaz?” he asks after the class, not caring about the half-naked girls around us that apparently don’t have any problem with us being in the same room while we all change back into our normal clothes.

…Probably because they know we’re not really interested in them. Our group consists of 20 people, aged between 10 and 18, and over the last few weeks, I realized that I’m not even interested when the hottest girl in our course stands next to me in only panties. I really don’t care for girls anymore, most of the time. The building doesn’t have separate changing rooms for girls and boys, because usually, only girls are here, anyway, so Dave and I had to get used to it. Also, ever since I told him that all my friends call me Chaz, and not Chester, he calls me that as well, and I really like that.

The question regarding my hair was one that I expected, and that I’ve heard all day in school. When I came home from the hair salon yesterday, Mike laughed so hard he almost fell off his chair at the dinner table. It got even worse when mom and dad said they liked the new haircut and that I look like a ‘handsome young man’. Mike ended up getting lectured on not laughing at people while I just smirked at him. We both feel this intense schadenfreude when the other one is in not-so-serious trouble, whereas when we’re in real trouble, we stick up for each other as if our lives depended on it.

“Oh, um, my dad got a promotion and we’ll celebrate in an expensive restaurant on Friday. He said I had to get a haircut that looks more appropriate for such a place.” I answer, hoping he likes me without my mohawk.

“I…I kind of like it. Looks cute.” he admits, and I can tell how nervous he is.

We get along really well, and still we’re nervous around each other. I really want to ask him out. _Is it too soon? Does he really like me back? What if someone from school sees me being on a date with a guy? …Screw it, just ask._

“Hey, um…would you…would you like to go on a date with me?” I ask quietly so only he can hear me. _Damn, that went better than when I asked Tali out. At least no stuttering._

“Sure!” he says after a few seconds of staring at me, “I’d…I’d really like that. What about, uh, next Saturday?”

_I don’t know what to say. This was easier than expected, I should have asked earlier…_

“Yeah, Saturday is good.” I say, and as we leave the building, we agree on meeting at 2 pm to go see a movie together.

xxxxx Thursday

I’m sitting on my bed, scribbling in my diary when suddenly, a thought crosses my mind. I can’t tell anyone I’m going on a date with a guy on Saturday. I need an excuse. I need an alibi. If mom or dad ask where I’m going, I can’t say ‘I have a date with a boy’. That’s simply impossible. I walk over to Mike’s room and go in without knocking, like always. He doesn’t knock, either, so why should I?!

I find him sitting at his desk, working on the computer that belongs to both of us. It’s in his room, but mom and dad told us we were supposed to share it. He’s trying to produce samples of two songs that he’s playing at the same time. I don’t really know how that works, but Mike has taught it all to himself. He’s really into making music and beats, and he’s the only person who’s allowed to hear me sing those songs I write down in my diary.

After the disaster with the graffiti, he had to find something new to be creative, and I guess he found it in music. I know he’s so focused on the computer that he didn’t even hear the door open, so I sit down on his bed and wait until he notices me. Five minutes later, he reaches for the glass of iced tea next to him, spilling half of it over his t-shirt when he sees me.

“Damn, Chaz, how long have you been in here?”

"About five minutes. Do you have a bit of time? I have to tell you something that I can’t tell anyone else.”

“Sure.” he replies, attempting to dry his t-shirt with a tissue.

“So, um, I don’t really know how to say this, but…I need to be somewhere this Saturday, and you have to pretend you’re going there with me, although you won’t.” “What?!” “I have a date with a guy, Mike.” He stares at me as if I had just proven the existence of aliens. Then he stares some more.

“You have a date with a guy?!”

“Y-yes.”

“Uh, o-okay.” he stutters, blinking a few times.

“Wait…that’s all you have to say? You don’t think it’s weird or something?”

“No. I already told you last year that I’m cool with you being, uh, gay or whatever, bro. I’m just…I didn’t expect this, you know?”

I’m so relieved. Of course I knew he was going to be fine with it, but it still feels good to hear it again. I tell him all about Dave and that I met him at my secret Wednesday activity, and I’m glad Mike doesn’t make fun of me because of that, even though we usually tease each other about every little thing.

“So, um, what if we tell mom and dad that we’re going to the movies with the guys? They won’t suspect anything. Plus, I can go to that new burger place with Anna then.” he suggests. “We haven’t gone out in a few weeks, actually, because she’s so jealous of my math students.”

We agree that, in case our parents ask where we’re going, we’ll just tell them that little lie about meeting with the guys. It’s not a big lie; it’s a small, necessary one, I tell myself while we listen to the beats Mike has produced on the computer.

xxxxx Friday

It’s 7:30 pm, and we’re sitting in this fancy-ass restaurant. We’re all dressed up; dad’s in a suit, mom is wearing a black dress with golden jewelry, and Mike and I have to wear our ‘expensive restaurant clothes’, which we usually avoid at all cost. We just don’t feel comfortable in these white dress shirts and black pants with fitting, polished black shoes. That’s not us. I gotta admit that the food is great, though. It’s not all frogs and snails, just like dad said. Still, I’d pay to see Mike eat frogs. The waiter comes to our table, asking if we want to have another drink, which sucks, because Mike and I can only drink water or soda, anyway. Dad is driving, so he doesn’t drink anything, either, which leaves mom, who decides on a glass of red wine.

I’m not gonna tell them that during the last class trip, I’ve made my first experiences with beer. Even Mike doesn’t know about that…I know I’m not 18 yet, and nowhere near 21, but it was too tempting. There were students from a different school staying at the same youth hostel as our school. They were a bit older, and somehow they had managed to smuggle beer inside. So while Mike was busy with Anna, I wandered off to meet the cool guys who had loud music and beer.

_Damn, the waiter is kinda cute_ , I think when he walks away from our table. Suddenly, I feel Mike elbowing me in the ribs. _Shit, I probably looked at that cute waiter a little too long…_

Mike quickly signs to me ‘what the hell are you looking at’, and I reply that it’s none of his business. _I really need to be more careful when looking at men, I don’t want anyone to notice._

“Hey, there will be none of that signing at the table, boys.” Dad says, and we remember where we are.

“Sorry” Mike and I mumble in unison, getting back to our food.

The rest of the evening is uneventful, but still fun, and when mom asks us if we have any plans for tomorrow, we tell them that we’re going to watch a movie with the guys, and luckily, they don’t question it.

xxxxx Saturday

Today’s the big day! I spent all morning trying to decide what to wear, and getting ready in the bathroom. Also I’ve found a way to make my new haircut look cool. With the aid of tons of hair gel, I managed to get my hair all spiky. I think it looks cool, and I hope Dave will like it, too. I’m already putting on my shoes, while Mike is sitting on the stairs, petting Jason. He’s not as dressed up as me, so none of us is surprised when mom asks me where I’m going, dressed like this.

“Just to the movies, mom.” I reply, trying hard not to look away.

“Are you sure?” she asks, and I can’t help but feeling like she knows something.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” I say, looking at Mike for support, relieved when he’s nodding and gets up from the stairs, ready to leave.

Mom gives us one last knowing look, and then we’re out the door. We take the bus to the movie theater, but Mike gets off the bus one station earlier than I to meet Anna at the new burger place they want to check out. Finally the bus arrives at its’ destination, and I almost stumble out of it because I’m so anxious to meet Dave. At the entrance of the movie theater, I lean against a wall, waiting for him. I’m five minutes early, so I have time to prepare myself. I’m not as nervous as when I had my very first date with Talinda, though. I’m older now, and I already know Dave a bit.

Checking out my reflection in a window, I see that I look great. Black jeans with rips across the knees, black boots, and a red and black stone temple pilots t-shirt. My hair is spiked to perfection, and even though I miss the mohawk, the spikes look cool, too. Oh! There he comes! He’s wearing dark blue jeans, white sneakers and a grey and white t-shirt. God, he’s so cute. We’re going to watch Jurassic Park, which just came out this week. As soon as he spots me standing next to the entrance, his face lights up and he shily waves at me.

“Hey, Chaz!”

“Hi, Dave.” I reply, grinning at him cheekily.

“So, um, should we, um, go inside?” he asks.

I’m biting my lip, nodding at his question. After buying our tickets and a big bucket of popcorn to share, we take a seat. The popcorn is already half-empty before the movie even starts, and while more and more people enter the cinema hall, we talk about some stuff we’ve never talked about before. We tell each other more about our families, about what we like to do in our free time, and before we know it, the hall is full, and the movie starts.

I like how close we’re sitting; I can feel his thigh against mine. The movie has been playing for a few minutes now, and I think it’s time to move a little closer, so part of intentionally, and part of accidentally, because I’m really insecure about all of this, my left pinky finger touches his right one. While I continue to stare at the screen, not paying that much attention to the movie, our pinky fingers engage in slow rubbing and touching; tentatively exploring each other. Glancing over to him, I see that he’s chewing on his bottom lip, smiling to himself, just like I am.

Throughout the movie, we dare to look at each other from time to time, and by the end of the movie, our fingers are intertwined and we’re holding hands. When the lights are turned back on and it’s time to leave, we get up, still holding hands. That’s when I hear it.

“Fucking fags!” someone behind us says, shoving us both out of the way and pushing past us.

Suddenly, Dave and I are the center of attention, and all the people who are leaving the movie theater look at us. Dave and I break apart, quickly bringing some space between us and avoiding eye contact. My first instinct is to to chase the person who did this and punch him in the face for interrupting our moment. But I keep my cool. It’s something I’ve learned in therapy, and sometimes, it actually works. I take a few deep breaths and focus on myself, and then the anger slowly fades away. When we’re outside again, I look at Dave, who’s standing a few feet away from me. Our eyes meet, and I know that everything is okay. He looks upset, but also willing to talk to me again.

“Hey, um, so…do you wanna go somewhere else?” I ask him shily, trying to distract my mind from the incident.

“Actually, I do.” he admits. “And I know just the place.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. It’s the youth center I’ve been going to for about half a year now, and it’s right around the corner.”

His relaxed attitude is calming my nerves a bit, and I follow him to the youth center.

“How did you find this place?” I ask, looking at the modern building in front of us and reading the sign in the window, that says ‘All colors of the rainbow are welcome’.

“When I…when I realized that I was, uh, interested in guys, I knew I couldn’t tell my parents. They wouldn’t understand. They’re really catholic, and they actually believe that people like us deserve to…um, you know, burn in hell and that kind of stuff.” he says. “My best friend Joe is the only person who knows I’m gay. By the way, I think it’s awesome that you know him, too. And, well, he was going to the movies with this girl he’s been dating, and on their way they came across this building. He told me about it, and I decided to check it out. I’ve been coming here a couple of times per week; it’s a youth center specifically for gay and lesbian teenagers. It’s my save space when things at home get too much for me.”

_So he really is gay. That’s good._

I think it’s great here.” I say honestly as he greets the guy at the reception and shows me around.

Suddenly, I remember my therapist telling me about those kinds of youth centers, and that she said if I ever felt like I need some other people to talk to about my issues, I should go to such a place. I was angry and frustrated that day at therapy, so I dismissed her advice and never gave it a second thought, but right now I wish I would have taken that advice.

We sit down on a colorful couch, and after talking for a while we decide that we feel good enough to go outside again. The incident at the movie theater has upset both of us, but I can tell that he won’t let those homophobic idiots intimidate him. We exchange telephone numbers and agree on a second date next Tuesday, and when we part ways to go home, I feel like I have never smiled brighter.

xxxxx

Fortunately, Mike and I have agreed to meet at a certain time at the nearest bus stop from our parents’ house, so we can walk home together, and mom and dad don’t get suspicious. During the ten minutes walking distance between the bus stop and the house, we take turns telling each other about the dates we had, and I tell Mike all about the youth center Dave showed me. The summer holidays will start in a few weeks, and I think this is going to be the best summer of my life, because even though my secret Wednesday activity will be on a break until school starts again, I know that I’ll see Dave during the summer, and that, with a little bit of luck, he’ll become my boyfriend.

xxxxx

**Thanks for reading! The lyrics are (again) Figure.09 by LP.**


	22. Chapter 22

“So, how do you feel about that?” I hear Dr. Baker ask me.

I’ve been laying on the couch in her office for ten minutes now, pouring my heart out. Years ago, when I first came here, I would have never thought that there would come a day when I can just lay on this couch with my eyes closed, totally relaxed, and tell her about my daily struggles. I was always sitting here, refusing to lay down and relax like she told me to, but a few weeks ago, I decided that laying down and closing my eyes while talking was worth a try.

“Well, to be honest…the thought of actually being, um, intimate with him is…terrifying. It’s been three weeks since our first date, and we get along really well. We’ve held hands and kissed, and we see each other two or three times every week…and I…I wanna go, you know, um, further, but at the same time I’m scared of that.” I admit, and a moment later I hear her scribbling down something in her notebook.

The memory of Dave’s and my first kiss, which was my first kiss with a guy, is one of my favorites. It’s constantly on my mind, because it was just three days ago. I let my thoughts drift back to that moment for a second, thinking about the feeling of his soft lips pressing against mine in the darkness of the cinema while we were watching yet another movie. We were sitting in the back of the movie theater, and no one else was in the same row as we were. Everyone else was sitting in front of us, so we could enjoy a little alone time. Okay, as alone as you can be in a movie theater, but it still counts.

_His head is leaned on my shoulder as we cuddle deeper into the comfortable, dark red seats. The time for shy touches and smiles is over, but we’re just never alone. There are always people around in the youth center, which we have been to a few times, and also there’s no room for privacy in our Wednesday class. But here, we are more or less alone, and so I boldly let my hand wander up and down his thigh. He makes a tiny sound of surprise, and a second later, I feel his arm go around my shoulder, his hand slipping under the short sleeve of my t-shirt, and his thumb strokes gently over my skin._

_“Chaz?” he whispers._

_“Yeah?”_

_“I like that.”_

_I hum in agreement, smiling to myself. I like what we’re doing, too, which is why I tell him to look at me. Our eyes meet, and before we can stop ourselves, we share our very first kiss. Everything is really slow and careful, as if we’re trying not to hurt the other. We break apart to take a breath, and then we’re back to kissing. The second kiss is a little more forceful, because we can’t seem to get enough of each other. It feels good. New, exciting, and a little forbidden, because I suddenly remember that we’re in a movie theater, and not alone._

_The movie is long forgotten, though, when he admits that this was his first kiss. Not only his first kiss with a boy, but his first ever. Even though it’s dark in here, I know that he’s blushing. I’m blushing, too. I can feel it. My cheeks and ears heat up, and we kiss again. Hesitantly, I’m sliding my tongue over his bottom lip until he grants me entrance. I can’t believe it. I’m sitting here in a cinema full of people, french kissing another guy. Right now, all the other people don’t matter. We feel as if we were alone in here, and for some reason, I like that we’re both a little shy and insecure about what’s happening. By the end of the movie, we have been kissing cheeks and lips and knuckles, and I’m on cloud nine._

“Chester? I asked if you had spoken to Dave about those feelings?” Dr. Baker’s voice interrupts my thoughts.

“Huh? What? Sorry, I guess I zoned out for a second.”

“Yes, I could see that.” she replies with a hint of humor in her voice.

_Damn, how embarrassing…_

“Well, um, I…I haven’t talked about this with him yet.” I admit. “I just don’t know how to say it, you know?”

“I understand that it can be hard to tell someone new about being afraid of intimacy, but I do think you should be open and tell him about your trauma at some point. There’s no need to rush things, though. You are both so young, take your time. If you ever feel as if you’re being pressured into doing something you don’t want to do, tell him to stop. I’m not here to judge you, you know that, but someone with your level of trust and intimacy issues should take their time.”

I groan at her statement. I hate to admit that I am afraid of trusting someone like this. It would be different with a girl, but with a boy…I’m scared. I want to do more than kissing, but at the same time, I don’t.

“I’m just so scared, you know?” I say honestly. “What if I tell him that I’ve been…um…abused…and then he doesn’t want me anymore? Hell, sometimes I’m disgusted with myself when I think about that.”

“The key is honesty, you know that. And time. Tell me what exactly terrifies you about being with him.”

“I don’t know! You’re the expert!” I snap.

“Well, yes, I am. I could explain to you what studies have shown about the correlation between abuse in childhood and intimacy issues later in life, but you know by now that talking about your fears is the best way to deal with them. And you do know what terrifies you in particular, so tell me.”

God, I hate when she pushes me like that. When she uses this fucking psychological bullshit to get me to talk. Sadly, it always works.

“You…you don’t tell my parents what we talk about, right?”

“No. Doctor-patient-confidentiality. It was a bit different when you were younger, but by now, there are certain subjects I am by law not allowed to tell anyone else.”

Oh man, I’m so relieved. I don’t want to talk about all of this with my parents, on top of everything else that’s going on right now. I don’t want to admit it, but I really appreciate that they sent me to the therapist all those years ago. I wouldn’t know what to do if I had to deal with all this on my own.

“Okay, um…what terrifies me is…is being touched, you know, down there…by him. By any man, to be honest. I’ve been really happy lately, aside from the nightmares. Happier than I’ve ever been, but…what if we want to…have sex and I freak out because I remember what it feels like to be raped? I still get flashbacks, and sometimes I wake up at night because I had another nightmare. I haven’t had those in a long time, but they’ve been coming back lately. And…and then when I wake up, it’s like I can feel it.”

“I really think you should be honest with Dave about your concerns, Chester. Communication is the most important thing in any relationship. When did the nightmares first start to come back?”

“Uhhh, I guess it was when I started being really interested in boys, and then thinking about, um, you know, doing stuff with them.”

During the next few minutes, I honestly tell her what concerns me, and what I’m scared of, ignoring the deep red blush that I feel creeping up my cheeks as I talk. I still hate this honesty. I hate having to talk about all of this, but I don’t argue about it anymore. She keeps telling me that I have to face my fears, and that however uncomfortable talking about them might be, I still have to do it. I hate how honest I have to be, but I like how honest she is. She doesn’t treat me like a child who has to be protected from the truth; she treats me like someone who’s old enough to deal with his mental problems.

I didn’t want to admit to myself it at first, but I am someone who’s a bit mentally and emotionally unstable. She says that I’m a so-called ‘risk patient’ for illnesses like depression when I get older. She also says that my anxiety issues and occasional panic attacks will always have to be treated, and that, when I turn 18, she’ll send me to a colleague of hers, a psychiatrist for adults. When I first told her about my secret Wednesday activity, she said it was a great idea, because exercise helps with mental illnesses, and that if I ever get diagnosed with depression, I should keep exercising, because a depressed person needs more…what was the name of that weird hormone…something with s…serotonin! Yeah, that’s the name. She said it’s important that I have enough of that, and she said that exercising makes my body produce more of it.

When the session is over, I go see mom who’s been sitting in the waiting room. Every time she takes me home, she’s asking how the therapy went, but I keep telling her that it went well and that it’s none of her business what I talk about during therapy. Can’t I have a few secrets? Why the hell do parents always want to know everything?

xxxxx

I’m starting to think that mom knows something’s up with me. She knows I’m not single anymore, and, what’s even worse, I think she knows I’m gay, or bi. She suspects it, at least. Every time I go out, she questions my fashion choices and how I’ve styled my hair, asking me if I’m having a date or if there’s any other reason why I spend an entire hour in the bathroom before I leave the house. Just last week when I indeed had a date with Dave, and I came home that evening, I was in such a good mood that mom asked me what was going on.

_Closing the door behind me, I continue to silently hum a melody that came to me on the way back home. After I have untied my boots and kicked them into their usual corner, I walk into the living room, finding mom reading a book on the couch. Dad is still at work, although it’s getting late, and Mike is upstairs with Anna, doing god-knows-what with her. I’ve heard her moan a few nights ago when she was over until 11 pm, and I think that they’ve been having sex. Damn, Mike’s not a virgin anymore, I gotta catch up…_

_As I make my way into the kitchen to search the fridge for dinner leftovers, I hear mom call my name._

_“Chester? Pumpkin? Come here for a second, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”_

_I take the plastic container with the leftovers, and a glass of juice with me, put them down on the couch table and take a seat next to her._

_“Yes, mom?”_

_“You seem so…cheerful lately. Really happy. And yet sometimes so lost in thought, and I’m asking myself if there’s anything going on in your life that we don’t know about.”_

_“Wh…why would you ask me that?” I ask nervously._

_She knows me much too well to not notice that I’ve been keeping a secret._

_“Because I care about you, and I would like to know what’s going on in your life. You’ve been so secretive lately, and you don’t tell Muto and me anything about where you’re going or what you’re doing after school.”_

_“Um, well, there is something…” I admit, trying to hold eye contact._

_“Something like a girlfriend?”_

_I almost choke on the cold pasta I’m eating. Coughing, I avert my eyes and focus on the glass of juice in front of me._

_“Uh, no. N-nothing like that…” I stutter, taking a few huge gulps of the juice._

_“Then…maybe a…boyfriend?” she asks carefully._

_Unable to drink like a normal person, I simultaneously try to drink and cough at the same time. I haven’t expected this question, and now the juice is coming out of my nose, so I quickly take an old tissue out of my front pocket to avoid getting it all over the couch. Mom takes the glass out of my hand and places it on the table, grinning at my nervous reaction to that question._

_“What? No! Of course not…it’s…it’s not a…a, uh, boyfriend. Why would you even think…” I mumble, blushing in the deepest shades of pink and wiping the juice off of my face._

_“You know, if you don’t want say it, that’s okay. All I’m saying is that you seem like you’re in love. But if that’s not it, you know you can always talk to me, right? Whatever it is, I’m here. If there’s anything you want to tell me, I’m always there for you.”_

_“I know, mom…and I…I want to tell you, but…just not yet, okay?”_

_“Okay. Can you promise me that you will tell someone? It doesn’t have to be me, but I need you to know that you can tell people about whatever secret you’re keeping. I don’t want you to feel alone.”_

_“I don’t feel alone. Mike knows. And Dr. Baker, too.” I confess, and I see mom smiling at me._

_“That’s great, Chester. It’s good that you can trust them.” she says, but I immediately feel bad, because now she certainly thinks that I don’t trust her and dad with it._

_“Mom…I, I trust you and dad, too, you know? I just don’t wanna tell everyone. Not yet.”_

_“I know you trust us, pumpkin. And I know you don’t want to talk about it anymore, so I’ll try not to be nosey. Come on, let’s see if there’s anything good on TV.”_

_The rest of the evening we watch some weird game show and have a good time. It’s been a while since I’ve had such a talk with mom, which is why during the entire evening, I keep thinking about our conversation, wondering if I should just come out to her and dad. At about 9:30 pm, Anna leaves, and a few minutes later, dad comes home._

As far as I know, she hasn’t told him about what we talked about. I guess the way I reacted when she asked me if I had a boyfriend was enough confirmation, but I didn’t exactly say ‘yes’, so maybe there’s still a small chance that she doesn’t know?

xxxxx

It’s Friday evening, and we’re all gathered in our new favorite burger place, the one that Mike and Anna went to a few weeks ago while I had my first date with Dave. Today was the last day of school, and ahead of us are three months of summer holidays! Everyone is here tonight; me, Mike, Rob, Brad, Joe and Dave, who has been welcomed into our group of friends by now. Brad and Rob are unaware that he and I are together, but I’ll tell them soon. Even Anna and Talinda are here, along with this one girl that is crazy enough to date Brad. I don’t mind Talinda being here, since there is still something like friendship between us.

I’m sitting between Mike and Dave, arguing with Mike about what would make the ultimate, perfect burger, while I’m rubbing my leg against Dave’s under the table, unbeknownst to the others. He and Joe are telling Brad and Rob that story about how Joe accidently set the teacher’s coat on fire in science class and blamed it on someone else; a story that becomes more hilarious every time I hear it. Mike and I reach an agreement about the burger issue while Dave tells the best part of the story, and while we all laugh, our elbows touch, and we smile at each other.

It’s one of many little touches that have happened during the evening, and when I look away again, I catch Talinda looking at me. No. At us. Me and Dave both. A second later, she smiles to herself and averts her eyes, looking back to Anna, who’s sitting next to Mike, holding his hand. Does Talinda know something? Can she see it? I hope she doesn’t ask me about it later…She’ll say something like ‘See? I told you, you were gay! I always knew it!’. Ugh, I really don’t want that. By the way, I think I have it all figured out by now; I’m bi. Not gay, not straight. I’ve given this whole thing a lot of thought, and since my first relationship was with a girl, who I enjoyed kissing and being with, and my second relationship is with a guy, I figured that I’m simply attracted to both. Being bi is okay. It’s something I can identify with, and something that I’m trying to be proud of.

Aside from the weird glances Talinda throws at me from across the table, the evening is fucking amazing. But the delicious burgers at this place, and the fact that the summer holidays just started are not the only reason. No, the actual reason is that Joe brought beer, and we’re all getting a little tipsy.

Yes, I know we’re not allowed to drink yet, but we’re doing it tonight to celebrate. Joe said that his dad works a nightshift at the police station tonight, and his mom is visiting her sister, so we all met at his place and got a little drunk before we came here. The girls snuck a few bottles into the burger restaurant in their handbags, and now we’re sitting in a somewhat secluded corner, sharing the last three bottles we have. Even Brad and Rob drink, and it was Mike who needed to be convinced the most. I’ve had like 4 bottles, maybe more, and everything seems so much more fun right now. I don’t even know how we were able to order our burgers, because a few of us are very obviously drunk.

“Come on, Mike, just one more. It’s just beer.” I tell him, feeling really tipsy already as I push the half empty bottle into his hands.

“Yeah, it’s just beer.” Joe adds, and I feel like this is not his first time drinking alcohol while his parents are gone for the night.

Well, it’s not my first time drinking beer, either, so who am I to judge…

Thirty minutes later, the remaining bottles are all empty and disappear in the girls’ handbags again. All of us have had a few bottles, which is why we don’t realize how loud we are talking and laughing. We don’t even notice how everything slowly gets out of control. People are starting to look over at our table, but we don’t care. My usual not-so-quiet voice seems even louder now, even to my own ears. Dave and I get touchier with each other, even though there are seven other people here with us, plus, we’re in public. We don’t care, though.

To make matters worse, a group of people we don’t like to see enters the restaurant. It’s the guys that used to pick on me when we were still at the same school. Mike, me and the rest of our group are now in high school, while these guys dropped out after middle school. I guess they’re just too stupid to get further education…Anyway, they’re coming in, and they even brought someone with them. Someone I never wanted to see again in my whole entire life. Tim. The guy who bullied me until I broke his nose and he got expelled. Fuck. At least tonight we are 9, and they’re 5 people.

“Hey, if that’s not Bennington and his gang of losers!” Tim shouts through the whole room as he sees us.

“You’re the only loser here!” I shout back.

“And who’s this? Your boyfriend? I always knew you were a fag!”

That’s the moment I realize that Dave and I are sitting really close, arms wrapped around each other’s waists. The rest of our group hasn’t said anything about that yet, but maybe they’re just too drunk to notice…Rob is actually sleeping, his head resting on the table. The girls are holding on to each other as Tim’s group approaches our table, but that might also be because they’re trying not to fall over. They have had quite a lot to drink, even Talinda, who usually would never do something that goes against her parents’ rules. Brad and Joe don’t look so awake anymore, either, and Mike looks as of he’s going to puke anytime now. Dave and I look at each other, but don’t answer Tim’s question.

“Wait…are you guys drunk? Ha!” one of the other assholes says. “Alright, Bennington, now’s payback time. You got me expelled, you son of a bitch!”

“Oh, I already got payback when those asshole friends of yours beat me up.” I say, unsure why I said that at all.

I guess it’s the alcohol. I feel a wave of bravery rush through my veins as I get up and ask him whether he wants to fight me. Dave and Mike hold me back, but I shrug them off and walk towards him.

“What’s going on here?” a waitress asks, but we ignore her. “Alright, I’m calling the cops.”

“Oh, you wanna fight?” Tim asks me, and before he knows it, I’m throwing the first punch.

We engage in a fist fight in the middle of the burger place, completely ignoring all the other people here. Tim’s friends are cheering for him, and suddenly, I feel more and more lightheaded. The alcohol has caught up with me. I can hear sirens in the distance, and before I know it, Tim and his gang bolt from the restaurant. Mike and Dave are shaking the others awake so we can leave, too. I hear the cops coming closer, and finally, I realize in how much trouble we are.

“Get out of here, I’ll call you later.” I say to Dave.

“You sure? I don’t wanna leave you alone!”

“Yeah, Go, baby. I’ll call you as soon as I can! Take care of the others. Get them home safely. You’re the one who’s the least drunk.” I say before we share a quick kiss.

The others are too drunk to notice that I just kissed a boy in public, right in front of them, because they’re running out of here, barely escaping the cops that have just arrived at the restaurant. I’m ready to get out of here, too, but as I look back at Mike, I see that he has collapsed on the floor next to the table. Fuck, he’s really drunk, although he hasn’t had much beer. He isn’t passed out, thankfully. He’s just sitting there, babbling something to himself, and he’s obviously trying not to puke.

“Ch-Chazzy, I’m s-so dru-d-drunk…” he slurs while I’m trying to pull him up so we can run from this place.

“I know, Mike…dammit, get up!”

I’m feeling really drunk and lightheaded myself, but I don’t want to be arrested. A second later, it’s too late when four cops approach us. One of them grabs Mike and forcefully pulls him up from the ground, guiding him into the police van. Mike doesn’t really resist, since he’s too drunk to fight. The cop puts him in handcuffs and sits him down in the car. Another cop talks to the restaurant staff and takes some notes. The other two officers come towards me, and I run. I don’t get far, though, because a few seconds later, they tackle me to the floor. I’m putting up one hell of a fight, kicking and screaming. I’m yelling obscenities at them while they forcefully remove me from the ground. Behind my back, the handcuffs click shut, but I’m not yet done fighting. I’m kicking my legs in all directions, resisting the cops as good as I can. I’m not even sure why I’m fighting like this. I could just come with them and sit down in the fucking car. I guess it’s all the damn beer that’s making me more aggressive than usually. The third cop joins us, and as I manage to kick him in the shin, I feel another set of cuffs around my ankles, and they drag me out of the burger restaurant.

_Damn, I guess we can’t come here again._

The chilly air outside practically hits me in the face, and I almost throw up. Two officers are holding each of my upper arms, dragging me to the car as I continue yelling at them. The third cop yanks the door of the van open and they sit me down next to Mike, who’s almost asleep. The fourth cop already sits behind the steering wheel, calling the police station about the situation. He hangs up when the remaining cops get in. One of them tells me to calm down and be quiet during the drive, and surprisingly, I obey. I’m getting too tired to struggle, and due to those fucking cuffs on my wrists and ankles, I can’t fight, anyway.

Trying to calm my breathing, I look over to Mike, who suddenly starts gagging, and before I know what’s going on, he’s throwing up all over the floor of the car. Some of it gets on our shoes, and I’m feeling a wave of nausea wash over me, as well. I manage to hold it in, though, fortunately. As the drive to the police station continues, Mike pukes a second time, this time all over his t-shirt. I guess alcohol is not for him…

We manage to exchange a few words before we arrive there, and all of a sudden I realize that the cops will probably call our parents once we’re there, and that we can kiss our precious summer holidays goodbye now. We have never screwed up this badly, and I don’t even wanna think about the consequences.

Mom and dad are gonna be so angry…I’m getting more and more lightheaded every minute, and it’s getting harder not to puke.

“Chaz?”

“Huh?”

“Dad is going to kill us.”

xxxxx

**Thanks for reading!**


	23. Chapter 23

For what seems like an eternity, Mike and I have been in the holding cell at the police station. We’ll stay here until our parents pick us up, which could be anytime. It could be in a few hours, or tomorrow, depending on how angry they are. I hate all this waiting. I hate the uncertainty. I saw Joe’s dad on the way in here, he looked really pissed, and after they had thrown us into this cell, he came to talk to us for a short while, informing us that he’d call our parents. It was so weird seeing him in his police uniform. We’ve had barbecue parties at his house, and I know him only as Joe’s relatively cool dad, but him being a hard ass cop was new to me. I wonder if he knows that Joe was with us, and that he was the one who brought the beer…

When we arrived here, they made us stand in front of a white wall and took a picture of each of us; one picture facing the camera, and one facing the wall to our left. Mike could barely stand, and when it was my turn, I gave the camera the angriest glare I could manage.

There are five other guys in the holding cell with Mike and me. They’re all sleeping, fortunately. I wouldn’t wanna have to deal with those guys right now. I’m sitting on a pretty hard and uncomfortable bench, leaning against the wall. Mike is resting his head on my right shoulder, and he’s quietly snoring into my ear. It’s fucking infuriating. _How can he sleep like that?!_ Plus, he’s drooling on my shoulder and it’s slowly wetting my t-shirt there.

I’d remove him from my side if we weren’t still cuffed. I was sure they’d uncuff us when we got here, but we had no such luck. I made a little scene after they got us out of the van, because I thought the cops were too harsh with Mike. _So what he puked all over the backseat?_ _It was his first time drinking alcohol, what do they expect?!_ And now we have to sit here in this tiny as fuck holding cell with our hands cuffed behind our backs and wait for someone to pick us up. Great. _I wish I could sleep, too._

But I can’t. I’m bouncing my left leg nervously up and down, as far as these fucking cuffs around my ankles allow it. I swear, if my boots get damaged, I’ll sue the cops. Okay, maybe I won’t go that far, but I really love my black boots and I would literally die if anything happened to them. Right now they’re not in great shape, anyway, because there’s puke on them. Mike didn’t even have that much to drink, but apparently, those three bottles were too much for the first time, but I had five and I’m not the one who threw up.

I _feel_ like I have to throw up, though. It just hasn’t happened yet. The disgusting smell of puke that is surrounding us grosses me out. I’m past being tired, and now I’m just anxious about what happens when our parents get here. I don’t even wanna think about the conversation we’ll have tomorrow. Plus, it wasn’t just beer that we were drinking. Joe got a bottle of vodka out of the kitchen, and after all of us had taken a few shots, he filled the bottle up with water so that his parents wouldn’t notice.

I’m worrying, worrying, worrying. Still restlessly bouncing my leg up and down. My mouth suddenly feels dry and cold sweat is breaking out all over my body. Oh no. I know where this leads. I’m having an anxiety attack. Fucking hell, not here, not now, please. I haven’t had one this bad in almost two years. My palms are sticky and sweaty as I wriggle my wrists in these fucking handcuffs. They’re too tight. Everything seems too tight; my throat, too. It’s like I can’t breathe. My heartbeat speeds up until I feel as if my heart is going to jump out of my chest. I’m shaking, and I’m feeling dizzy. So dizzy.

There’s no one here who could help me right now. Mike is totally passed out, still drooling on my shoulder. My brain goes into overdrive as a million thoughts and worries race through my head. When I get those anxiety attacks, I need someone to hug me and calm me down, as stupid as it sounds. Mom and dad know what to do. Mike knows what to do. Right now, though, Mike isn’t much help. I’m in so much distress that I’m getting a headache.

I’ve had this a few times before…this blinding, painful headache that makes me feel like my brain is about to explode. Normally, my anxiety attacks are much more harmless than the one I’m having right now. They take two or three minutes and then it’s over. While I’m fighting the headache and try not to hyperventilate, I feel silent tears running down my cheeks.

Fuck, I need someone to help me calm down. _What did my therapist say should I do if I ever found myself alone whilst having an attack_? It’s in the back of my mind as I try not to tremble so hard that Mike wakes up. _Breathe, Chester, breathe._ _Breathe in and_ _hold it for five seconds, then breathe out. Inhale, exhale, repeat. Slowly._ Eventually, the headache fades away and I’m starting to feel less dizzy. Over the next few minutes, all of the symptoms disappear. I can think more clearly now, so I’m trying to picture how the conversation with mom and dad will go. _Positive thoughts, Chester. That always helps._

I’m sure they’ll hear us out. They won’t do anything without knowing what happened exactly. They’re always fair, and that’s kind of a soothing thought for me right now. Mike and I have never been punished unfairly, and never without being given a chance to explain ourselves. All I have to do is be honest. Tell them what happened and how we ended up getting arrested. They might not understand, but they will at least not do any of the things that scare me. Hitting, shoving, slapping, punching. All of those things don’t happen at our house, and still I have to remind myself of that sometimes.

I’ve lost all track of time, but at least I’m feeling better now. No more anxiety. For now. It was the first time I had such an attack while being alone; I think my therapist would be proud of me. I think it took about ten minutes, maybe more, but I knew how to handle it. I breathed through it and forced myself to think positive.

xxxxx 2 hours earlier

“Donna? Honey? Is the phone ringing?” Muto asked sleepily.

“Wha - ? What time is it? I just fell asleep…”

Switching on the lamp on the bedside table, Muto checked the digital clock next to it, seeing that it was almost midnight. Although the boys were at a friend’s house tonight, or so he thought, he and Donna had gone to bed early. The phone kept ringing, so he got up to answer it.

“Hello?” “Good evening, Muto, it’s Hahn.”

“Why are you calling me so late, my friend?”

“I’m at work, Muto. I’m calling about your sons-“

“My sons?"

“Yes. I’m sorry, but…my men have arrested them.”

“Arrested?!” Muto repeated, suddenly wide awake. “Why? What happened? Can I pick them up at the station?”

“Just calm down. It’s nothing serious. Apparently, they got drunk with some friends, and caused trouble in a burger restaurant.”

There was silence on the other end of the line while Officer Hahn waited for his friend to answer. He knew how Muto felt. One of his subordinates had told him that he saw his son Joe run from the place, as well, accompanied by six other teenagers who all looked drunk.

“Excuse me, but did you just say they were _drunk_?!”

“Yes, Muto. We put them in a holding cell. You can pick them up either tonight or tomorrow.”

“Thank you, I’ll pick them up right away. It’s a long drive from my house to the police station.”

“Okay, see you then.”

“Wait – how are they holding up? I…I need to know before I get there.”

“Michael is completely passed out, he’s sleeping like a rock. Threw up twice in the car. Chester looks equally tired, but he isn’t sleeping yet. They’re both pretty drunk, Muto.”

“Thanks for the call, Hahn. I appreciate it.”

“See you later. Bye.”

“Bye.”

During the entire phone call, Muto felt as if he were on auto pilot. He had talked and listened, but he hadn’t really understood what Hahn had told him. His sons? Michael and Chester? Arrested? Being drunk? No. Even those two troublemakers wouldn’t do that. It couldn’t be true….but he knew it was. When the police called, things got serious.

“Muto? Honey? Who called this late?” Donna asked from the bedroom.

Going back, Muto contemplated what to do. He reached the bedroom and switched the lights on, opening the closet to get dressed.

“You’re not going to believe it, Donna. Our boys were arrested. Hahn called; they’re in a holding cell to sober up. I’m getting dressed so I can go pick them up now.”

Donna didn’t know what to say. Never in a million years would she have expected something like this. She sat up against her pillow, unable to say anything. As Muto got dressed, he began talking himself into a rage.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Donna. The boys lie about where they go and what they do. They don’t listen to us anymore, they disobey us willingly. We tell them one thing and they do the opposite. Sure, I can take away their music and their video games. I can take away their freedom by grounding them, but none of that makes them behave. Honestly, Donna, I don’t know what to do with them. I am _furious_ with them! I don’t have your patience. I’m afraid that the next time one of them crosses the line, I’ll lose my temper. I know I promised myself to never yell at them, but right now I would. I don’t know how I’ll react when I arrive at the station. I am seriously so angry with them right now…”

“I know what you mean, darling. Pick them up and bring them home. And calm down. We all made mistakes when we were young. I’m angry, too, and worried, and I think it really is time for them to learn that there are consequences to their actions, but we can talk about all of this in the morning. God, I just hope they’re okay…”

“You know what? Maybe it would be better if we let them stay the night in the holding cell. It might teach them a lesson. And learning a lesson the hard way will do them good.”

“Muto, no. I can understand your frustration, but I do _not_ want my sons to spend the night at the police station. They got drunk for the first time. They made a mistake. Not picking them up will make them think they can’t depend on us in emergencies. Michael might be okay with getting out tomorrow morning, but I’m not so sure about Chester. You know how he thinks. He’s going to be stressed out of his mind.”

“I guess you’re right…” Muto replied, sighing and going to the en-suite bathroom to quickly brush his teeth before he left. He knew he had to calm himself down before he drove to the police station and possibly confront his sons about what had happened. He also knew that Donna’s approach was the better alternative. He had to wait for the confrontation until tomorrow, because if they were as drunk as Hahn had said, there was no way of talking to them, anyway. Plus, it was getting late, and the ride to the police station would take a while. He was halfway out of the door when he turned around again, going back to the bedroom one more time.

“It’s just…I don’t understand why. Do we not pay them enough attention? Or do we overprotect them? Is it because I work too much? They’ve grown up so fast. One day they’re 11 and bring a puppy home, and the next day they’re suddenly 16 and get in trouble with the law…”

“Shh, darling. Just go get them and we’ll talk about everything tomorrow. I’m worried, too. I’m worried sick, but you and me both have to stay calm.”

xxxxx

When Muto finally arrived, it was 2:10 in the morning. He quickly spotted Officer Hahn, who was sitting at his desk, talking to someone on the phone in a strict tone. When their conversation was over, he hung up and saw Muto coming towards him. Standing up, Officer Hahn greeted his friend and they gave each other a one-armed hug.

“Good morning, Muto.”

“Does this time count as morning already?” he asked in return. They made a bit of friendly small talk before Officer Hahn changed the topic to something more serious.

“Before you can pick your boys up, I have some more details I want to share with you.”

Muto nodded, letting his friend talk.

“My subordinates reported that the staff at the burger restaurant called 911 when a fistfight broke out between Chester and another boy who came in with a group of friends.”

“A fistfight? Jesus…”

“Yeah. The staff said that they noticed right away that your boys and their friends were a little tipsy when they came in, and they kept an eye on their group because they made quite a bit of noise as they kept drinking.”

“How many were they?” Muto asked, sighing.

“Apparently 9, it was the whole gang, which means…my own son was involved, too. One of my men saw him leaving the scene.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yes…I’ll have to have a serious talk with him in the morning. And I advise you to do the same with your sons.”

“I will. I’m so mad at them right now. They just don’t know when a situation gets serious, you know? They think there are no consequences to their actions. Sometimes I don’t know what to do to make them understand that I worry about them.”

“Oh, I know the feeling. But…the situation really is serious right now. I could charge them with underage drinking and drinking in public. Also with resisting arrest. Let me tell you…Chester wasn’t really cooperative when the police arrived. It took three officers to get him out of there and into the car. My men told me that the curse words he used to describe them would make the worst prison inmate blush.”

“I have to apologize, Hahn. Donna and I will talk to them in the morning, and I promise you that something like this will never happen again. Ever. I’ll make sure it won’t.”

“I know, I know…there are only three reasons why I let them get away with it. It’s their first offence, you’re my friend, and I know that they’re usually good kids. They made a mistake that could have legal consequences, as you obviously know, and it has to stay their only mistake of this kind.”

“Thank you, Hahn. I really appreciate what you’re doing for them.” he replied while memories of discovering that his sons were doing graffiti floated through his mind. This wasn’t their first offence, and if they had been caught doing that, they’d be in a whole lot of trouble right now, because the law was no joke when it came to second offences. He had to make his sons understand that. Luckily, nobody knew about the graffiti thing.

“We will, however, send you the bill for cleaning the car from when Michael got sick on the ride to the station.” Hahn said. “Also, someone has to pay the bill from the burger restaurant. The staff gave it to one of my men, and he gave it to me.” he explained, digging through his back pocket, eventually retrieving a small piece of paper.

Sighing, Muto agreed after looking at the bill Hahn had just handed over to him, thanking his friend again for letting his sons get away.

“Can I see them now?” he asked, trying to put his worries aside.

“Of course, I’ll walk you to the holding cell.”

When they arrived, Muto let his eyes wander over the scene in front of him. There were Michael and Chester, his beloved sons, sitting in this tiny room that had grey walls, a grey floor and grey benches on three of the walls. The fourth wall was made of metal bars. There was a toilet in the corner, separated from the main room by half a wall. Aside from his sons, there were five other people sitting and laying on the benches. Apparently, everyone was asleep.

Chester was the one who looked the least asleep. Muto spotted him leaning against the wall with Michael resting his head on his shoulder. While Michael seemed to be completely out of it, Chester looked as if he was just in a light slumber, drifting in and out of consciousness as if he had been trying to not fall asleep but eventually did.

“Hahn?” he asked his friend as they were approaching the cell.

“Yes?”

“Why are they still cuffed? This is a holding cell for drunk people, not a maximum security prison in Mexico.”

“I told you they weren’t that cooperative. We’re just protecting them from themselves.”

“Could you please get them out of there? I just want to take them home.” he said, sighing and thinking that his sons were lucky their mother didn’t see them like this.

Officer Hahn dug out a massive keyring from his pockets, quickly finding the one from the cell. Opening it, he stepped inside and locked the door again. The sound of the door clicking open and shut woke Chester up, and he blinked a few times until he recognized his surroundings. Everyone around him seemed unfazed by the noise, though. Just as he asked himself why the door was being opened, he spotted his father standing outside the cell with his arms crossed over his chest, a concerned look on his face. Their eyes met for a brief moment until Chester looked down to the floor.

“Mike! Mike, wake up, dad is here!” he hissed into his brother’s ear, trying to elbow him in the ribs, which was harder than expected due to his wrists being still cuffed behind his back.

His shoulders hurt like hell, and he wished he would have just stayed home that evening. Mike eventually jerked awake, looking disoriented. When Officer Hahn approached them, telling them that their father was here to pick them up, Mike didn’t seem to realize what was happening at all, almost falling asleep again as Officer Hahn helped him turn around so he could uncuff him.

“You’re not going to kick me again, are you?” he asked, addressing Chester while he uncuffed his ankles, referring to the impressive achievement of kicking a police officer whilst being drunk, sitting down and having both ankles cuffed.

“Um, no, sir. Sorry ‘bout that...” he slurred, still having trouble speaking clearly.

“It’s okay. Promise you’ve calmed down?” Chester nodded, too tired to say much.

“Good. Turn around.”

As soon as he was uncuffed, Chester stretched his arms and rubbed his wrists, avoiding his father’s eyes as Officer Hahn guided him and Mike out of the cell. He was sure that in the unlikely case that there would ever be another barbecue party at the Hahn’s house that Mike and he were invited to, he could never look Joe’s dad in the eyes again. On the other hand, Chester knew that the officer would give his own son a piece of his mind, too. There was no way the cops hadn’t told him that they saw Joe and the rest of their gang run from the burger place. All Officer Hahn had done was doing his damn job, and in fact, Chester knew he was a cool guy outside of his job.

Then, Mike and Chester found themselves standing in front of their father; Mike unstable on his legs, barely awake, and Chester trying to not let it show how dizzy from being overtired and drunk he was.

“Listen, dad…, uh…” he began, trying to find an explanation for the events of the night.

“We will not talk about this tonight, Chester. We’ll talk tomorrow, when you’re both sober and awake. Why don’t you try to sleep a little, hm?”

xxxxx

For the second time tonight, Mike and I are sitting in the back of a car. Usually, we fight over who gets to sit in the front passenger seat, but not tonight. Is it still night? Or is it already morning? I don’t know. Mike has fallen asleep as soon as the tips of his hair have made contact with the head rest of the seat. I swear, that guy could sleep through an earthquake and a hurricane at the same time. When we finally left the police station, dad has helped us to get into the car and asked us if we were alright. He was so nice, but I know he’s angry as fuck.

During the past hour, I’ve made a few attempts to apologize. I’ve tried to explain, but dad wouldn’t let me. He keeps saying that we’ll talk about it tomorrow and that he won’t argue with me about this while I’m drunk, and I guess I can’t blame him. I’m feeling kind of nauseous, hoping that I won’t throw up all over the leather seats in dad’s car.

It’s been about ten minutes since my last attempt to explain, so why not give it one last try? I want this drive to be over. I want to lay down in my bed under my cozy blanket and just sleep. Also, I’m hungry and I have to pee. When the fuck are we home? I’ve already drank two of the water bottles dad keeps in the car, but my throat feels as dry as sandpaper. I guess that’s because of the alcohol…

“Dad, please, listen…I just – “

He doesn’t let me get further, though. Removing his right hand from the steering wheel, he holds up his index finger, motioning for me to shut up. He shakes his head a little as he sternly looks at me through the rearview mirror.

“For the last time, Chester. No. You will have more than enough time to explain yourself in the morning, but we will not talk about this tonight, do I make myself clear?”

I nod, staying quiet and balling my hands into fists in my lap. Actually, I appreciate that there’ll be time to explain tomorrow instead of now. The atmosphere in the car is tense, there’s nothing I could say now that would make the situation any better. Plus, I’m way too tired to form a coherent sentence, anyway. The rest of the ride home is silent, but I can sense how angry dad is. He’s driving faster than usual, and I can practically see the wheels turning in his head. I guess there is a lot he wants to say to me right now; a lot he _would_ say if Mike and I weren’t this drunk…

So I sit here, sinking deeper into the soft car seats, biting down on my bottom lip and fidgeting with my hands in my lap. It’s so nice and warm in here…and I’m so tired…maybe if I sleep I don’t feel so dizzy anymore…

xxxxx

“Chester…Chester, wake up. We’re home.” I hear dad’s voice.

He doesn’t sound as angry as before; his voice is tired, but gentle. Slowly waking up, I realize that I’m still feeling nauseous. I get out of the car, which only makes me feel worse, and after taking a few steps, I drop to my knees and throw up all over the flower bed in our front yard. Damn, mom loves those flowers…

That’s when I see dad and Mike coming towards me. Dad is supporting Mike, having one arm hooked around his right upper arm so he doesn’t fall over. When I’m done puking my guts out over mom’s beloved flowers, dad helps me up, now supporting both me and Mike as we walk to the door. Mike is leaning against dad’s shoulder, blabbing something about how delicious burgers are. I bet this will be hilarious to talk about in like ten years or so, but right now, I don’t feel like laughing. Dad rings the doorbell since he can’t reach the key like that, and to my surprise, mom immediately opens. I have no idea what time it is, but certainly not near any time she would usually get up on a Saturday morning. Then it hits me. She’s probably been up ever since Officer Hahn called. That was…like…hours ago…

“There you are, darling! Are they alright? What happened?”

“It’s fine, honey. I’ll explain everything later. Come on, help me get them to their rooms.” Dad replies, and I only faintly register going upstairs.

The pounding headache returns as I find myself sitting on the bathroom floor next to Mike. It’s still dark outside, but in here, the lights are way too bright for my taste. I wanna sleep. I can’t stay awake much longer. What the hell are we doing sitting here, anyway? Oh, right. Mom is helping Mike and me getting out of our puke stained clothes. I think dad went to fetch two buckets in case we throw up again. I’m leaning my head against the side of the bathtub, resting my eyes for just a minute…

_What is that wet thing on my face?_ , I think, opening my eyes to see mom wiping the side of my mouth clean with a wet washcloth.

“Icandoitonmyownmom…” I mumble weakly.

“Shhh. Can you try to get up? You need to go to bed.”

With her help, I manage to stand up and stumble the few steps from the upstairs bathroom to my room, and from the corner of my eyes I see the open door of Mike’s room. Dad is sitting on the edge of his bed, talking to him in a quiet tone. _But…wait, what? Did I fall asleep in the bathroom? Just one minute ago Mike and I were both in there, how did he get from there to his room so fast? And why am I already wearing the old t-shirt I usually sleep in? Where’s the rest of my clothes? Why am I wearing pajama pants? How did this happen? And when?_

Finally, I get to crawl under my warm blanket. Mom sits down on the edge of my mattress, telling me that there’s a bucket on the floor in case I have to puke during the night. She says something about thinking twice about drinking alcohol again, but I’m too tired to actually hear her.

“’m sorry, mommy…” I hear myself say.

_What the fuck? I never say ‘mommy’. I’m not four years old…Ugh, never mind. Blame it on the alcohol…_

“Shh, Chester, it’s okay. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Sleep now, pumpkin.”

xxxxx Saturday, 1 pm

I feel like shit. Like I’ve been hit by a train. Twice. As I feel for my glasses on my bedside table, I slowly remember last night. Crap. Fuck. Shit. No. I don’t want to get up. I want to stay in bed all day and don’t face anyone. The memories are kinda blurry, but the main events are still there.

Last day of school. Going out. Getting drunk. Burger place. Tim. Fight. Cops. Car. Police station. Holding cell. Dad. Car. Home.

Yeah, I think that’s about it. I wonder if the others made it home safely. And Dave – oh god, fuck! What about Dave??? I have to call him. As soon as I find myself alone with the phone I’ll call him. I put my glasses on and gulp down half the bottle of water that’s standing next to my bed. Fuck, I have to pee. That would mean having to leave the bed. Ugh. I glance at the digital clock next to me, groaning when I see how late it is. _Well, at least mom and dad let me sleep as long as I needed it…_

later, I have convinced myself to get up and go to the bathroom. As soon as I open the door, the smell of our night out hits me. I spot our clothes laying in the bathtub, which is where the smell is obviously coming from. I’m starting my bathroom routine, taking a longer shower than normally, and also brushing my teeth longer than what would be necessary. After opening the window, I knock on Mike’s door to check on him.

“Mike, get the fuck out of bed!” I demand, because I’ve just decided that if I have to leave my cozy bed, he has to do so, as well.

I hear him groan in response, and I guess he’s feeling just as shitty as me. Without knocking again, I go in, finding him sitting up in his bed and staring into space. I open the curtains and his window without being asked.

“Chaz? What happened last night? How did we get home?”

Standing next to the open window, I stare at him.

“Do you really not remember?!”

He shakes his head, looking around his room as if it’s the first time he’s here. I’m far less awake than it seems, but I realize that before we go downstairs to face mom and dad, I have to refresh his memory.

“What’s the last thing you know?”

“Um, I…I guess I remember going to the burger restaurant…and then suddenly you were in a fistfight and the cops came.”

“That’s all?”

He’s nodding, looking at me with his big puppy eyes that used to get us out of a lot of situations when we were younger. _Maybe if he takes a shower he remembers more of the night?_ That’s precisely what I suggest as I pull on his arms to drag him out of bed. Very unwillingly, he gets up and into the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, he’s done and returns to his room to get dressed in clothes that don’t smell as bad as the ones laying in the tub. He’s coming to my room, sitting down on my desk while I’m pacing in front of him.

“Remember anything else now?”

“Not much. I remember sitting in the cop car and watching them drag you out of the burger place, but I have no memory of what happened after that, or how we got home.”

I’m cursing under my breath. I’m not remembering everything, either, but I sure as hell know he was sleeping most of the time while I was freaking out from nervousness. I start telling him everything I can recall of last night, and when I’m done, we realize in how much trouble we are.

“Damn it, Mike! What do we tell mom and dad?” I ask him.

“Why are you asking _me_? You remember more than I do!” he replies, raising his voice; something he rarely does.

That’s when we hear mom call our names. _Fucking hell, no._

“Hey! What are you two fighting about? Come downstairs, we have to talk.”

_Damn, now it’s discussion time._

xxxxx

**Thanks for reading.**


	24. Chapter 24

Hesitantly, Chester and Mike made their way downstairs, automatically going into the kitchen since it was lunch time and they still hadn’t eaten. They could smell scrambled eggs and bacon, glad that their parents had already made them something to eat.

“Sit.” Muto said while they stood next to the table indecisively.

They sat down, watching Muto joining Donna in the kitchen, and shortly after, a big brunch was placed on the table. Their parents sat down as well, sipping coffee while their sons quickly drowned one glass of orange juice after the other and scarfed down the food as if they hadn’t eaten in days.

_I wish they’d let me drink coffee, too_. Chester thought as he inhaled the coffee smell. To him, it smelled like the nectar of heaven, but he had never been allowed to taste it. _They say we’re too young for coffee. They say the caffeine would make me even more hyper. I can’t wait for my first cup…_

“We want you to be awake and focused before we talk, so eat and drink until you feel well enough, okay?” Muto asked, trying to calm himself down before the big talk.

_Why are they so calm? I didn’t expect it to go this way_ … Mike thought while sipping on his juice.

Muto remembered the conversation he had had with his wife just three hours ago when they had woken up. After their sons had gone to bed, he and Donna had managed to catch a few hours of sleep, as well. They knew that the upcoming conversation was bound to get out of hand and certainly end in a lot of yelling and door-slamming, so they at least wanted everyone to be more or less awake and fed before it happened. He and Donna watched as their sons mumbled a quiet “Okay…”, now eating slowly on purpose to avoid the discussion.

Minutes later, all the food and drinks were gone, and there was really no way to delay the talk any longer. When the table was cleared, except of four glasses of water and a bottle standing in the middle of the table, they all sat down again. When neither Mike nor Chester made an attempt to say anything, Donna spoke.

“Your father and I are very mad at you two, as you can imagine. We want to have an open and honest conversation about what happened and how you ended up being arrested. You’re lucky Officer Hahn was working the night shift yesterday, because he is the _only_ reason you got away with it. You should call him sometime and thank him for not charging you, by the way. So, tell us what happened.”

“But dad talked to Officer Hahn last night, so you know what happened.” Mike replied, already annoyed by the situation.

“We know what led to your arrest, but let’s start with why you decided to get drunk. You’re underage, for god’s sakes!” Muto said.

Chester and Mike exchanged a look; years of teaching themselves sign language, plus deepening the bond they already had, had taught them a way to silently communicate. They understood each other without words, and were able to have entire conversations just by looking at the other in a certain way.

_He doesn’t remember. Damn. So many times, Mike has talked for me when I was too shy or too embarrassed to admit something; I guess now it’s my turn to do the talking for once_ , Chester thought, holding on to the almost empty glass of water in his hands.

“Um, well,” he began, not daring to look up as he talked. “We…we met at Joe’s parents’ house because he was alone at home that evening. We just wanted to celebrate the end of the school year and go out – “

“The day before you told us you would all spend the night there to watch movies and order pizza. There was nothing about going out and getting drunk. You lied to us.”

“We did NOT lie, mom! I promise! We really had planned on staying at Joe’s place, but…when everyone of us had arrived, Joe said there was beer and, um, vodka.”

“Vodka?! Are you kidding me? How many times do I have to remind you that you’re 16, and no where near being old enough for such things?”

“God dammit, I know how old I am, dad!” he snapped, slamming his palm down on the table.

“Calm down, okay? We’re just worried. Carry on.”

Chewing on his bottom lip, Chester continued. “So we…we drank a little, and then we made the decision to go out instead of ordering food to the house. We went to that cool burger place Mike and Anna found, and we, um, I mean…the girls smuggled a few bottles in their handbags so we could share them there.”

“One question. Was this your first time drinking alcohol, boys?” Muto asked, speaking to both of his sons now.

Mike nodded, thankful that Chester was doing the talking today. Chester, on the other hand, said nothing, fidgeting with the glass and closing his eyes for a moment.

“Chester?” Muto pressed, glancing at his wife to see her slightly shaking her head in disbelief.

“What?” Chester replied, pretending to not have heard his father’s question.

“Answer me.”

Chester could feel everyone’s eyes on him as he quietly spoke to the table. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Wait, what? You never told me about that!” Mike burst out, shocked that there was something he didn’t know about his brother’s life.

Chester then began to tell him about that night during the last class trip when he had made his first experiences with alcohol, much to his parents’ anger. He quickly turned the conversation back to the previous night, and explained how the situation at the burger place had gone out of control when Tim and his friends had shown up.

“That boy who bullied you in school two years ago?” Donna asked.

“Yeah. He was being an ass, like the last time I saw him, and he was provoking me, and…and then we were suddenly fighting.”

“Suddenly?” Muto asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I know it sounds stupid…but, um, to be honest, I can’t really remember how and why exactly we started fighting. I guess one of the waiters called the cops, and when we heard them coming, Tim and his gang ran out – “

“Hey, that means you won the fistfight!” Mike interrupted, trying to get his memory of last night together.

“That is _not_ important, Michael.” Donna scolded, waiting for Chester to continue.

“Um, okay. So I…I remember telling our friends to get out of there, too. Then I…I think I turned to Mike, because he wasn’t feeling well, but we had to get out of the restaurant before the cops arrived. And that’s when they came in and got us into the car.” he explained, talking more to the table than to his parents.

Muto had heard the following part of the story from Officer Hahn, and had later told everything to Donna.

“Chester seems to do a lot of explaining today. Is there anything you have to say to this, Michael?” Muto asked, watching Mike shake his head, not looking at his parents.

“No?”

“I’m…I’m sorry, but…” Mike began, looking at his brother for support.

“He, um, I think he doesn’t really remember much.” Chester finished Mike’s explanation.

“Is that true, Michael?” Donna asked.

“Yeah, it is. I’m sorry…I…I just remember little bits and pieces, but, um, to be honest, I don’t even know how we got home last night…” Mike hesitantly admitted.

Donna and Muto shared a look before telling Chester to keep talking. This morning, they had agreed to stay calm and hear their sons out before they made any decisions regarding scolding and punishments. It was hard to stay calm though, especially for Muto.

“So what happened when the police arrived, son?” he asked.

“There’s no fucking reason for me to tell you! You know what happened! You talked to Officer Hahn, dammit!” Chester exploded, suddenly angry.

“Get a handle on your temper and watch your language.” Muto said, having a hard time keeping his own temper in check.

“You know what?! NO! You want me to tell you how the fucking cops dragged us out of there? How Mike got sick in the car and later they made us stand in front of that wall to take photos as if we were fucking criminals?! He almost couldn’t stand on his own because he was so fucking wasted! And do you wanna know what happened when they threw us in that damn holding cell? I had a panic attack! And I hadn’t had one in months! I was so scared, and Mike was passed the fuck out and couldn’t help me and I was ALL ALONE!” he yelled.

While Chester was venting his anger, Donna took the opportunity to take the empty glass away from him. She knew her son. He didn’t get angry as frequently as when he was a child, but when he did, it was really bad. There was raw emotion in his eyes, this unrestrained anger that very rarely showed itself, and she knew that he was ready to throw the glass against the wall. Sure, he had every reason to be angry, but so did they. His impulsiveness had always been something that Chester hated about himself, but she knew how to deal with it.

She got up, walked around the table towards Chester, and pulled him into a hug he very reluctantly accepted after some time had passed. Fortunately, Jason the dog returned from the garden in that moment. He had gone there when the yelling had gotten too loud for his sensitive ears. The dog had always been able to sense when one of them was in a bad mood, and ever since the boys had adopted him, he had been more successful in calming Chester down than anyone else.

“Sit down, pumpkin.” Donna said, hoping that Chester would for once do what he was told.

“Would you stop calling me that?” Chester complained, squirming out of his mother’s hug.

Jason sat down next to him, letting him pet his fluffy ears while Donna took a seat on her own chair. She had known that this conversation wasn’t going to be easy, and as everyone had calmed down again, she spoke in her usual, patient voice. “You had a panic attack?”

“Uh, Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about that before we continue?”

“Not really.”

“That’s okay. You can talk about it in therapy if you want to, you know that, right?”

“Yes…I’m, I’m just so angry because I was so alone when we were in that cell. Mike was snoring into my ear the whole time because he was asleep while I was freaking the hell out, and I got so anxious…but, um, I actually managed to talk myself out of it. In therapy we talked about what I should do when I got a panic attack whilst being alone, and I did that…and it worked.”

“I’m proud of you, Chester.” Muto said, watching as his son’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. He had chosen not to say anything about all the cursing yet. There would be time for that later. For now, he just wanted Chester to know that he was proud of his progress in therapy. “It’s good to see that the therapy works for you.”

“Thanks.” he replied, absently petting his dog, “But I’m still angry because Mike just passed out on me while I needed him…”

“I’m sorry, Chaz…” Mike mumbled, looking at his brother apologetically.

Chester glared at him, the anger over being left alone with his panic attack not yet faded away, but after a few seconds had passed, his eyes softened. He knew that Mike had been too drunk to help him, and it wasn’t because he hadn’t _wanted_ to help him.

“It’s okay, Mike. I guess you just had too much to drink last night.”

Before Mike could say anything, Muto interrupted them.

“That reminds me; how much _did_ you have to drink? And I mean both of you, Chester, don’t act as if _you_ hadn’t been drunk last night.”

Silence. Trying to remember the details of the previous night only intensified Mike’s and Chester’s headaches, and even though Chester had a pretty good idea of how much they had drank, he didn’t want to tell his parents the truth.

“I, um, I don’t really know…” Mike eventually replied. “Why is that so important, anyway?”

“It’s important for us, Michael.” Donna said. “I’m not saying anything against being curious about alcohol; I guess that’s just normal, it’s nothing bad, but ending up at the police station and being put in the holding cell is bad. So, how much did you drink?”

“We had a few beers and some vodka, okay?” Chester admitted, embarrassed by his mother’s lecture.

“And how many are ‘a few’?” she insisted.

“I…I think Mike had two or three beers, and just one vodka shot.”

“And what about you?”

“Um, maybe…like, four or five beers and a couple of shots. I honestly don’t remember how many, but it wasn’t that many, mom. I swear.” Chester admitted.

“Not that many?! Are you serious? Even three beers are a lot for someone your age.” Muto said. “And let’s not even start about the vodka.”

“This is not okay, you two. You won’t drink again until you’re old enough, clear?” Donna added.

“We just wanted to have a little fun, okay?” Mike argued.

“Yeah, why are you making such a drama out of this, anyway? I mean…it didn’t really turn out well, but it was no big deal…” Chester agreed with his brother, grinning at him when he gave his parents his best innocent Shinoda puppy eyes.

However, Muto and Donna were not having their sons’ lack of comprehension of how serious the situation last night had been.

“Just fun, huh? Was it also fun when the police came? Was it fun when you had to throw up in the car and when they put you into the holding cell? Do you think it was fun for _ME_ when Hahn called in the middle of the night, telling me that you two geniuses had been ARRESTED?! Your mother and I were WORRIED SICK! None of this has anything to do with fun, do you UNDERSTAND me?!”

Mike and Chester frantically nodded, unprepared for their father’s outburst. It was one of the rare occasions when he actually raised his voice at them, and yet they still wanted to argue and test their boundaries, but before they had a chance to argue, Donna chimed in.

“He’s right, you know? You always get yourself in trouble and think it’s no big deal, but it’s adding up and I’m scared it will hit you one of these days. You don’t even realize how lucky you were that it was Officer Hahn’s shift last night, do you? Because if it had been _any other_ officer, he _wouldn’t_ have let you get away with it!”

“Oh, and do you want to know that I lied to him for you last night? That I lied to my friend when he said one of the reasons he let you get away is that it’s your first offence? I agreed when he said that, because if you had a prior offence because of the vandalism, this would be a lot worse, you hear me?”

“It was NOT vandalism!” Mike yelled.

“Oh god, here we go again…” Chester whispered to himself, rolling his eyes because he was tired of the conversation about their graffiti escapades being vandalism or not.

“Let’s not argue about this again, okay?” Donna interrupted. “You two should be grateful that your father drove all the way to the police station to pick you up.”

“We…we are.” Chester replied in a small voice.

“Uh, yes. Thanks for not letting us stay the night there.” Mike added, knowing that he wouldn’t have been able to forgive himself if Chester would have had another panic attack that he couldn’t have prevented because he was passed out right next to him.

“Oh, believe me, I _wanted_ to let you spend the night there. I hoped that if you’d learn your lesson the hard way, you might actually understand that there are consequences to your actions. Your mother was against it, though. You can thank her for this.” Muto told his sons in a strict tone, hoping he would get through to them.

Mike and Chester mumbled apologies and thank yous, whilst actually being desperate to leave the room. They were annoyed, tired of being scolded and also fighting their hangover. Outside, it was a beautiful summer day, and yet they were stuck inside, forced to deal with their angry parents. They knew from experience that the scolding was just the first part, and that there was punishment to follow, most likely being grounded. They didn’t want to lose their summer freedom over one tiny mistake.

“How much do you remember of the ride home last night?” Muto asked.

“Um, honestly…not much, dad…I just remember that you picked us up at the station and then we went home. I guess I fell asleep in the car, right?”

“Yes. And, Michael, do _you_ remember anything now?”

“Should I?!”

“Just answer the question.”

“Fucking hell…”

“Michael Kenji!”

“No, I don’t remember anything that happened after the cops came, is that what you wanna hear?! It was one time drinking! So what?” he argued, pushing back his chair angrily and standing up.

“Sit back down, Michael. We are not done talking about this.” Donna said, not surprised at all when she saw Chester get up and walk away from the table just like Mike did.

Their sons were on the way to their rooms, or worse, out of the house. The conversation was turning out exactly the way she had thought it would, and she could see that her husband’s patience was running thin. He got up as well, following his sons into the hallway. Unable to maintain her usual endless patience and understanding, she left the table and followed her angry husband. _What a way to start the summer holidays_ , she thought, quickly petting the dog before he went to the garden to escape all the yelling.

“GET BACK HERE RIGHT THIS SECOND, BOTH OF YOU!” Muto shouted.

Mike and Chester, albeit not at all in the mood to listen to their parents any further, made their way downstairs again, leaning against the banister with their arms crossed over their chests and staring at their parents defiantly.

_Fuck, he’s yelling. He’s never done that before. Seriously, in all the time I’ve lived here, dad has never yelled at Mike and me_. Chester thought whilst trying to hold Muto’s gaze.

“I see that you’re not reasonable about this, and it is obviously time for you to learn a lesson”, Muto began.

“Obviously.” Chester whispered to Mike, smirking at him.

Ignoring the misbehavior for now, Muto continued. “You’ll be grounded for two months, and – “

“What?!” Mike and Chester complained in unison.

_Fuck, I knew this would happen_ … Chester thought, already thinking about ways to evade the punishment.

“That’s almost all of the time! The holidays take three months! You can’t ground us during the summer because we made ONE LITTLE MISTAKE!” Mike yelled, glaring at his parents.

“Yes, I can, Michael. You need to learn that there are CONSEQUENCES – “

“I don’t give a fuck about any consequences!”

“You’re so unfair!”

Unimpressed by his sons’ anger, Muto explained that they would spend the first four weeks without video games, and that he didn’t care if they thought this was unfair. “Tell me what I do for work.” he said, trying out a new strategy.

“You’re a lawyer.” Chester said while Mike was staring at the floor.

“Yes, I am. When people hear the name Shinoda, they know it’s our family. People know me. They know what I do for a living because I’m the co-owner of the biggest law firm in California, which means if I’m the one defending the law, I can’t have you two breaking it. You have absolutely _no_ respect for the law, and I have let you get away with it too many times, so this time, I want you to actually learn something.”

“But what the fuck are we gonna _do_ all summer?! This sucks!”

“Well, Chester, you might not be allowed to meet your friends, but you can still call them after the first two weeks. If you want to go out, we do have a garden, in case you forgot.”

“But that’s like prison!”

“You want to what’s like prison? Last year, I’ve had a case at work with a group of kids who were just a little older than you two, and who had a history of getting themselves in trouble even though they were basically good kids. And guess what the judge decided? He sentenced them to four years in prison because it was their third offence! If I hadn’t won the case, they would have gotten ten years. The judge wanted to set an example in order to show what happens when you break the rules one to many times. I work on such cases all day; I know what can happen, and that’s why I worry so much about you! Did you even _think_ about how much damage it could have made for your future if Officer Hahn wouldn’t have been there last night?” Muto exploded. “DO YOU?”

Chester and Mike shook their heads; no, they hadn’t thought about that. Their father usually only spoke to his wife about those parts of his job, because he wanted to protect his sons, but this time, he needed them to understand the seriousness of the situation. There they stood, fidgeting with their hands and blushing furiously from being lectured like this. However, the shame quickly turned into new anger in the next second.

“By the way, someone has to pay the bill for the burger restaurant. You can pay it all with your pocket money, and later collect the rest of the money from your friends, understood?”

They looked at each other, completely shocked that their parents would do this.

“But…but, dad!”

“No buts. I asked if you have – “

“God fucking dammit, yes! Understood.” Chester burst out, while Mike reluctantly nodded, his arms still crossed.

“Good. Oh, and Michael, Hahn told me they’d send us the bill for cleaning the police car. You’ll pay that with your pocket money, as well.”

“What? No! No, I won’t do it!”

“I’m not kidding you, Michael. I mean it.”

As expected, he was fuming, arguing and snapping at Chester for laughing at him. Donna was speechless at Mike’s behavior; this wasn’t how she had raised her son. Sure, both of them had been really rebellious and testing their boundaries lately, but while it was nothing new for Chester to be impulsive and cheeky at times, it didn’t happen often that Mike lost his temper like this. Ever since he had been a child, they had taught him that respecting parents and other adults was one of the most important things, and that he should never be disrespectful. It was one of the Japanese values that Muto wanted to teach his son, but there had always been this small rebellious side in Mike that had become stronger and stronger since he had turned into a teenager.

“There will be no further discussion about this, young man.” Muto told his son, tired of his disobedience.

Right at this moment, when Mike realized he had no way of winning this argument and looked at him with his puppy eyes, Muto was thrown back in time, reminded of something that happened when Mike had been four years old.

xxxxx

_“Daddy? Daddy, are you awake?...Otosan?” I hear Michael’s voice, slowly waking up._

_I’ve gone to bed about an hour ago, and I have put him to bed at around 7 pm. I’ve read him his favorite bed time story, ‘the rainbow fish’, and I’ve explained to him again that Donna is visiting her mother in the hospital for a few days, which is why she has left for the airport earlier today. I open my eyes, seeing him standing close to the bed in his blue pajamas, clutching his bright green stuffed dinosaur Carlos to his chest._

_“What is it, buddy?” I ask, switching on the lamp on my bedside table._

_“I…I can’t sleep, daddy.”_

_“Did you have a bad dream?” He nods, clutching his dinosaur tighter._

_“I miss mommy.” he replies, sobbing and throwing himself into my arms when I sit up._

_“Mommy will come back in two days. She’s visiting grandma. We’ve told you that this morning, do you remember?” I ask, stroking over his hair as he sobs into my chest._

_“Uhu…ye-yes, daddy. I…I had a bad dream, and I...wo-woke up and…and, um, I’m sorry…”_

_“Shhh, Michael, what are you sorry for, hm?” I ask, when I suddenly notice the dark, wet spot at the front of his pajama pants._

_This hasn’t happened in months, but I guess it has to do with him missing his mother. Man, I miss her, too, although it will be only two days._

_“Oh, Michael, that’s okay. It happens sometimes, you don’t have to be sorry. Let’s go clean up and make your bed, okay, buddy?” I ask, taking his hand._

_After we have gone upstairs to get him a new pair of fuzzy pajamas out of the dresser, we enter the bathroom, throw the old pajamas into the hamper, and then I help him clean himself up, convincing him to let go of his stuffed dinosaur for a minute. As soon as he’s dressed again, he wastes no time picking the dinosaur back up and holding him close to himself as he watches me change the sheets on his bed. It’s late, so I’m not surprised to see him openly yawn and rub his eyes all the time. A short while later, I’m finished making his bed, crouching down in front of him and stroking his cheek with my thumb._

_See? Everything is clean now, you and Carlos can go back to sleep.”_

_“No!” he argues, shaking his head while stifling a yawn._

_“Yes.” I say, smiling at him, but he argues again._

_I glance at the colorful clock that’s hanging above the door of his room, seeing that it’s getting really late. Of course he can’t read the clock yet, but Donna said it looked so cute that he needed it in his room, so we bought it. “Listen, I’ll read you another story, and then you’ll go to sleep.”_

_Michael thinks for a while before shaking his head again._

_Jesus, kids are exhausting, I wonder how Donna does it all day... She told me not to try to reason with him as long as he’s not old enough… I really should spend more time at home and less time at work. I watch Michael cuddling with his dinosaur for a few seconds, practically falling asleep while standing._

_“Can I sleep in your and mommy’s bed tonight, daddy? Pleaseeee?”_

_Ohhh, that’s what he wants! Why haven’t I thought of that earlier?!_

_“Of course, buddy. Let’s go downstairs.” I agree._

_“Don’t wanna waaalk…” he whines, hugging my leg._

_I pick him up and carry him downstairs into the bedroom, tucking him in under Donna’s blanket. I can tell he’s not really asleep yet; he does the same thing when we come home after a long car ride, because he knows that I carry him to his bed every time. I’m smiling to myself while he hugs his dinosaur, snuggling into the big pillow. When I lie down on my side of the bed, I switch off the lamp I left on earlier and kiss the top of his head._

_“Good night, Michael.”_

_“Good night, daddy.” he mumbles sleepily, and shortly after I can hear his breathing slowing down, which means that he has indeed fallen asleep._

xxxxx

Muto wondered why he had to think of this particular memory now, getting snapped out of his thoughts as he heard Mike angrily yelling at Chester, who was teasing him about having to pay the cleaning bill. Without surprise, Chester yelled back, showing off his impressive knowledge of swearwords. He really had no filter when he was angry; they’d had to talk about that, too…

“Alright, that’s enough, you guys.” Donna said.

“Listen to your mother, boys. And quit using that kind of language, Chester!”

“Why would I?!”

“Do what I say. Watch your mouth, and don’t you roll your eyes at me!”

After five more minutes of backtalking and disrespecting their parents’ rules, Mike and Chester spent the next thirty minutes begrudgingly standing in opposite corners of the living room, supposed to reflect on their behavior, but as always, they just stood there, silently fuming and not succeeding to calm down in the least. Muto and Donna were thankful for half an hour of not fighting, though. Raising two moody, grumpy teenagers was indeed exhausting at times. When the thirty minutes had passed, Mike and Chester were more than ready to go upstairs into their rooms and turn their stereos up to the highest volume, so that all the neighbors would hear what kind of music they listened to when they were angry and frustrated.

“Hey, not so fast, you two!” Muto called from his seat on the couch where he had been reading the newspaper.

“What is it now, dad?” Mike said as both he and his brother came to a stop on their way out of the living room.

They froze on the spot, looking in the direction of the hallway, refusing to face Muto. Chester was whispering obscenities under his breath as Mike was impatiently drumming his fingers against his legs. He couldn’t wait to get out of the room. Chester wished he could go into the garden and be outside on this sunny day, just like Donna had been doing while he and Mike had to stand in the corner. She had done some gardening to calm her nerves, and Chester would give anything to just sit in the tree and be alone right now. Preferably with his Walkman and his diary, but he had no such luck.

“Come here. Michael – you know better than to talk to me like that.”

They reluctantly obeyed, and turned around so that they were standing right in front of Muto. Mike was exactly as tall as his father by now, while Chester was still a few inches shorter than them.

“Listen, you two. I want you to understand that your behavior was not okay. Far from okay, to be honest. Being arrested is not to be taken lightly, you hear me?”

Not willing to say anything, Mike and Chester just nodded, unable to prevent the blush creeping up their cheeks.

“And I know that being grounded is something you hate, because you can’t go out and meet your friends, but if you keep that bratty behavior up, there’s no other way for you to learn this lesson. And there are plenty of things to do besides video games and going out. Read a book, help Donna with the gardening, I don’t care.”

“But it’s the summer holidays! We had so many plans!”

“Yeah! What am I gonna tell Anna?”

“Exactly! We have to call our friends to hear if they got home safely! That’s really important, dad, please?”

Muto sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Those two had the nerve to ask him that? After he had earlier told them that they were not allowed to call anyone before the first two weeks had gone by? It was adorable how much they cared about their friends, though…

“Please, dad?” Chester begged. “Please just one phone call?”

Chester knew exactly whom he wanted to call, and even though he knew it was risky to ask, he’d take his chances.

“Fine. You two have one phone call each. You can do it later today before dinner. Five minutes each.”

“Ten!” Chester suggested daringly.

“Five, Chester. Take it or leave it.”

“Eight!” Mike said, hoping he’d have enough time to explain his situation to Anna and that she wouldn’t be too angry when he told her there was no way they’d make it to their movie date next Tuesday.

“Don’t push me. Five. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, dad.”

“Also, you are to help us around the house more. Tidy up your rooms, mow the lawn, help with cooking, wash the dishes, - “

“But, we have a dishwasher…”

“Seriously, Michael! Don’t sass me!”

“I just don’t understand why you have to ruin almost the whole damn summer because we made one mistake!”

“You’ll understand when you have kids of your own. Until then, it wasn’t a mistake, it was a …?”

“A bad choice.” Mike replied, knowing what answer his father wanted to hear, because he had had such a conversation more than once before.

“Exactly.”

“But…dad, we didn’t mean to get in trouble!”

“Yes, we didn’t know what we were doing, we were…damn.” Chester added, realizing too late that blaming it on being drunk wasn’t the best idea.

“No, no, no. None of that, guys; I don’t want to hear it. The time for excuses is over. There won’t be anything about ‘we didn’t mean it’, ‘we didn’t know what would happen’, or ‘it wasn’t our fault’, clear? Because it was your fault. It happened because you made the wrong choice. You are both old enough to take responsibility and know what happens when you do certain things, okay? You knew that getting drunk was probably going to end badly, and if I catch either of you drinking even a single drop of alcohol before your 21st birthday, the following two months will seem like the nicest vacation, do I make myself abundantly clear?”

“Yes, dad.” they replied in unison.

“I’m…I’m sorry.” Mike said in a quiet voice, finally having calmed down a bit.

“Look me in the eyes when you apologize, son.” Muto said before Mike reluctantly lifted his eyes from the ground and apologized again.

“Thank you, Michael. Now go to your room, and don’t turn the music too loud.”

When Mike had disappeared in his room and shut the door a little too forcefully, the next thing they heard was the brand new CD Mike had purchased with his pocket money a few days ago, on full blast of course.

“WHAT DID I JUST SAY?!” Muto yelled, and a few seconds later the volume was being turned down.

“I’m sorry, too, you know?” Chester said, nervously biting his lip.

“I know, son, thank you for the apology. And, Chester – when you go upstairs, don’t you dare slamming the door or blasting the music at full volume, understood?”

“Fine.”

“Okay. Go to your room.”

Surprisingly, Muto didn’t hear the door slam or music being too loud, but as soon as he left the hallway to go into the garden, he heard something that suspiciously resembled the sound of someone kicking the door of a closet. However, he just sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, joining his wife in the garden. She had stayed out of the second part of the big talk, watching them closely from her seat on the bench with Jason the dog sniffing the flowers next to her.

“Honey?” Muto asked, looking tired and a little grumpy.

“Yes?”

“Do you think we will ever raise them to be responsible adults?”

”Yeah, I do. I think it’s just a phase. I also think you’ve been doing a great job earlier. One day they’ll realize that what we’re doing is just for their own good.”

“You do? Sometimes I think I’ve failed them. They’re so rebellious, so unreasonable, with no respect for rules and what’s right and wrong, and I have no idea when that ‘phase’ will end.“

“You haven’t failed them, Muto. You’re a great father, remember that. I’m aware that they have been difficult these past months; more difficult than ever, but I guess that’s just puberty.”

“How do you manage to be so patient, Donna

“Well… years before we met, when I was their age, I was the same. Always rebelling, always backtalking, always testing my parents’ patience. I just know that one day, our boys will come to their senses, okay?”

“Okay…”

xxxxx

**Thanks for reading!**


	25. Chapter 25

I’m in my room, being totally upset about the whole situation. Being grounded sucks, but I knew it would happen. I kicked the door of the closet earlier, and now my foot hurts. Who’d be so stupid to kick a door while just wearing socks?! Only I could be so stupid. Also my head feels like it’s gonna explode. Shouldn’t have drank so much last night. And when the fuck will Mike turn his music down?! I can do only one thing now; turn my own music up, so it’s louder than his, which is what I do, although it hurts my head.

Only a minute later, I get up again and turn the stereo off completely. Although blasting music helps me deal with my anger and frustration, I’m not in the mood for it now. I’m in the mood for lying in a dark room on a comfortable bed and sleep until it’s dinner time. Letting myself fall onto my bed, I can hear that Mike has turned his music off, as well. Against my will, I have to laugh, because I realize that he has most likely been trying to counter my music this whole time. I turn around so I lie on my right side, closing my eyes.

The anger inside of me bubbles up as I think about all the things I wanted to do this summer. Spending most days at the beach, having more dates with Dave, going to the youth center, practicing for my secret Wednesday activity that is on a break during the summer holidays. By the way, the teacher said I’m doing very good, and that I look ‘graceful’ when I do it. Can you believe that? Graceful? Me? Normally, I’m so accident prone. I trip over my own feet, I can’t do any kind of sports without turning my ankle, I once managed to slip while sitting down. I’ve had so many more small injuries than Mike…hell, there was this one time where I fell from the tree when I was 12 and I broke my arm, and yet it didn’t stop me from climbing that same tree as soon as I could take the cast off. But apparently, there is one kind of sport that makes me look graceful, and I happen to enjoy it a lot.

There are a few girls from my high school at my secret Wednesday class, but they haven’t made fun of me for that, which I’m very thankful for. In middle school I would have gotten hell from everyone who would have known about it, but surprisingly not at my current school. It’s nice not to feel like the outsider for once. I mean, I’m not really one of the popular and cool guys, but at least the bullies leave me alone. I guess some people suspect I’m bi, but they just kind of ignore it, which is really cool. I guess I’ll come out soon, even to my parents. That would mean that I’ll have to tell them about Dave, and where I met him, which would in return mean that they’d ask me about the secret Wednesday activity and how I could participate there without their signature. And that would mean that Mike and I would have to confess that he’s been faking dad’s signature since we were 14…which would get us in trouble again, but since we are already grounded, they can’t punish us twice, so now is actually the perfect time for this confession.

My thoughts go back to everything I’ll miss out on this summer, and I’m wrecking my brain for what I’ll say to Dave when I call him later. I hope mom and dad won’t ask me whom I’m calling…I’m so worried about Dave and my other friends…it sucks not to know how and if they got home last night…

In a fit of anger, I slam my palm against the wall and kick my knee against it, too. Great, now my knee hurts. I scream into my pillow because I’m mad at everything.

“What the _hell_ are you doing?!” Mike yells from the other side of the wall.

“Nothing! Mind your own fucking business!”

“Screw you!”

“Screw you too!”

For a few seconds, there’s silence between us; then, I can hear him groan and knock against the wall.

“What?!”

“Sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

Again silence, and this time, it stays this way. One last time, I get up to go over to my desk, digging through the chaos to find the half-full bag of gummy bears I left there two days ago. I finally find it, laying on top of my school certificate from the previous school year. Mom and dad say that such an important document belongs into a folder, like all my other school documents, but I haven’t had time for that yet.

Grabbing the gummy bears and a bottle of water from my desk, I return to my bed, get rid of my shirt and lie down. When I’ve eaten most of the remaining gummy bears, I turn around to face the wall I share with Mike. I’ve gotta sleep, or else the headache won’t go away… Scowling at the cream white wall in front of me, I realize that I’m far too upset to fall asleep, although I’m hungover and tired, which is why I decide to do something I’ve done since I was a little kid and couldn’t sleep.

I start singing to myself, but for the first time, it’s not something by another artist; no, it’s a song I’ve written all on my own; I’ve even found a nice, fitting melody, and I’m really proud of it. Maybe there could even be some rapping in there at some parts…

_I've lied to you_

_The same way that I always do_

_This is the last smile_

_That I'll fake for the sake of being with you_

_The sacrifice of hiding in a lie_

_The sacrifice is never knowing_

_Why I never walked away_

_Why I played myself this way_

_Now I see your testing me pushes me away_

_Why I never walked away_

_Why I played myself this way_

_Now I see you’re testing me pushes me away_

_I've tried like you_

_To do everything you wanted too_

_This is the last time_

_I'll take the blame for the sake of being with you_

_The sacrifice of hiding in a lie_

_The sacrifice is never knowing_

_Why I never walked away_

_Why I played myself this way_

_Now I see you’re testing me pushes me away_

_Why I never walked away_

_Why I played myself this way_

_Now I see your testing me pushes me away_

_Pushes me away_

And just like that, I actually feel better. Quietly singing to myself has always calmed me down, even in the darkest moments. I’m finally getting more tired and my headache gets better, and soon, I’m napping.

xxxxx

On the other side of the wall, Mike was taking a nap, as well. He had stopped to remind Chester that he could hear him sing, because every time he had banged on the wall separating their rooms, the answer had always been the same: “Shut up, I’m singing!”

Maybe it had been poor planning that their beds stood at the same wall, but over time, they had gotten used to it. Whenever they had misbehaved, had been sent upstairs and weren’t allowed to be in the same room, they just talked to each other through the wall. Yes, they had to speak a little louder to be heard on the other side, but it had also given them the feeling of not being alone when they were in a bad mood, almost as if they shared a room. The wall had seen a lot of punishment over the years, though. Fits of anger that resulted in kicking or punching it; yelled arguments through the layers of wood and wallpaper and color. Sometimes, however, that wall heard Chester sing, and transferred the sound to Mike’s room.

He would never admit it, but whenever he heard his brother sing to himself, he calmed down, too. He was no expert, but he’d say that Chester’s voice had improved over the years. It had always been great, but it was just getting better and better, and by now, he didn’t mind him singing at all. Today, on this frustrating afternoon when he laid in bed, angry at his parents and a little ashamed of himself, he turned onto his back, crossing his arms behind his head as he heard Chester sing a song he had never heard before.

_Must be one of those songs he’s written himself…hm, sounds pretty good actually,_ he thought, closing his eyes, just listening to the unknown song, slowly drifting into sleep. Just like his brother, Mike needed a few hours of uninterrupted rest, and he only woke up when his mother knocked on the door hours later to call him down for his phone talk.

xxxxx

Finally I get to call Dave. It’s a few minutes to 7 pm, dinner time at our house, and Mike is still on the phone.

“Michael, we said 5 minutes.” Mom reminds him, and he’s quick to apologize to Anna for the 50th time before he hangs up.

“Go set the table while Chester calls …, pumpkin, who do you need to call?”

While Mike is whining about having to do housework, I tell mom that I’m calling a friend she doesn’t know. I did not say _boy_ friend, I said friend, so why the hell is she being so nosy?! It’s none of her business whom I’m calling.

“I said I’m calling a friend. Can’t I have some privacy?”

“Alright then, keep your secrets…” she replies, smiling knowingly as I angrily punch in Dave’s number and hope that he picks up the phone, and not his mom or dad.

“Hello? Thomas Farrell speaking.”

_Damn. It’s his dad. What do I do?_

“Um, hello, this is Chester Bennington. Is Dave there?” I ask shily, hoping I didn’t waste my precious phone call.

“Yes, he is. Who are you, if I may ask?”

_Ah, so he hasn’t told his parents about me yet_. We’ve been talking about coming out to our families, and I’m guessing he’s not ready yet. His dad sounds nice, but a bit stressed. Shit, maybe I’m interrupting dinner?

“We’re friends, sir. I’m sorry for the late call, but it’s really important. I’d appreciate it if I could speak to him, please. I’ll make it quick.” I say, because if I want to, I can be polite as hell, but then I remember that Dave once told me his parents believe that gays deserve to burn in hell, and I don’t wanna be so friendly to his dad anymore…

“Sure, I’ll get him on the phone.”

A second later, I hear “David, you’ve got a phone call! A Chester wants to speak to you!”, and I’m pretty sure that I’ve never been so excited for a call in my whole life.

“Chaz?”

“Hi Dave.” I say, relieved to hear his voice, “Are you alone?”

“Yeah, I am. You?”

“I think so. Listen…I miss you.” 

"I miss you, too, Chaz. I… I wanted to call you, too, but my parents are really angry about what happened yesterday.”

“Mine are so pissed! Did you all get home safely last night? I was really worried, and, um, Mike and I kinda, um, well, we ended up in a holding cell at the police station…”

“Yeah, I heard – “

“Wait, what? How?”

I can hear him giggle, and my heart just fills with joy.

“Well, uh, I thought there was no way that I could bring everyone home, so I decided to bring them back to Joe’s place. You know, since his mom is visiting her sister and his dad was working – “

“Yeah, about that – “

“So we just crashed in the living room. I managed to get the keys from Joe when we were on the bus, because even he was totally wasted, and when we finally arrived at his parents’ house, most of us just passed out on the couch and the floor. I think Brad and this weird girl he’s dating went to the bathroom to, um, have some fun, but it didn’t turn out so great. Joe’s dad found them sleeping half naked in the bathtub…I guess it was a wild night. Rob puked into the aquarium.”

While Dave is telling me how is night and morning were, I’m laughing my ass of on the phone. Now I understand why Mike was laughing so much when he was on the phone with Anna; she must have told him the same. Seriously, I’m standing in the hallway, where our phone is located, and I’m literally dying from laughing so hard! It’s a shame I wasn’t there! Must have been better than spending half the night in a tiny cell…

“So, anyway, Joe’s dad came home at like…7 am, finding all of us drunk as hell in his house. And I’m telling you, I’ve never seen him that mad! I mean…you know him, right? He’s a cool guy, normally…, but this morning he woke us all up and chewed us out about underage drinking and all that stuff. He…he then told us about you and Mike, and well, I guess Joey is going to get it worse than all of us, since he was the one who had the alcohol and all... Man, his dad was so angry…”

“Then what happened? Did he tell your parents?”

“Yeah, he did. He called all of our parents so they could pick us up at his house, and he told them what happened. I just don’t get why they’re making such a big deal out of this!” he rants, and I hear mom shout that I have only one minute left.

“Listen, Dave, I have to hang up soon. We…we won’t be able to see each other for a while. Me and Mike are grounded for two months, and this is the one and only phone call I can make in the next two weeks. I know it sucks…I’m really sorry. But…I promise I’ll see you after that! We can do all the things we wanted to do this summer, I’m really sor – “

“Hey, Chazzy, slow down. I’m grounded, too. Just for one month, but at least _you_ won’t have to spend every Sunday morning in church. And we can still call each other! As soon as your two weeks are over, I’ll call you, okay? And, um… I liked how close we were sitting in the restaurant, and then when you kissed me…it was in public, and nobody cared! I liked that.”

“I think nobody cared because they were all drunk and thought they were hallucinating.”

“Yeah, that, too, but…it was really nice, Chazzy.”

“Yes, it was. It just sucks that I can’t see you in two whole months.”

“We’ll find a way, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I miss you, Chazzy.”

“I miss you, too. Listen, I have to go…bye.”

“Bye.”

We hang up, and I feel like I want to laugh and cry at the same time. Laugh because I could talk to him, and he said we’ll make it work although we won’t see each other for two month, and cry because of the same reason. He said he liked it when we kissed in public! Oh my god! I can’t wait to kiss him again, and maybe do something more than kissing…

“Chester, come eat, dinner is ready!” mom calls from the dining room, so I make my way from the phone to the table and sit down, eyeing the green asparagus on my plate.

Damn, all those vegetables, why do we always have to eat so healthy?! I guess because we had burgers yesterday they want us to eat something ‘better’ today. Mike and I couldn’t even enjoy our burgers because we puked them all out. I mean, I like vegetables, but this is a little too healthy.

Mike and I have this silent agreement that because we feel that our parents have overreacted, we won’t talk to them more than necessary for a while, which is what we do during dinner. Of course, mom and dad see through it in no time. Halfway through dinner, dad asks us to stop acting so childish, but neither Mike nor I react.

“Listen, you two. You can be stubborn all you want, but it won’t change the fact that as long as you live in my house, you’ll play by my rules.”

Mike and I nibble on the asparagus, still not reacting to dad’s speech. “After dinner, you’ll load the dishwasher and then get rid of that smelly chaos in your bathroom, clear? Put it all in the laundry, along with those mountains of dirty socks and t-shirts you keep in your rooms. And get some air in there, your rooms do have windows, you know?”

When we still not say anything, mom chimes in.

“We don’t want you to spend the following two months being grumpy and moody the whole time. We only want you to learn to be responsible for your actions and be a little more adult.”

Mike and I look at each other, agreeing that whatever they say, if it’s not an emergency, we won’t talk to them. Of course, mom knows how to deal with it, like always.

“But if you two want to act like offended toddlers, that’s fine with me.”

_That’s enough. We. Do. Not. Act. Like. Toddlers. We are almost adults!_ And so, a stream of complaints and curse words bursts out of Mike and me as we defend ourselves and each other, while mom and dad seem to think our reactions are funny. _Damn, why can’t I just go upstairs and be left alone?_

After dinner, our parents remind us of all the chores we have to do, and since doing laundry and cleaning our rooms or any other room in this house are not our favorite things to do, it takes us a game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who has to do what. Dad says we’re being childish to play one round for each task, and that we should just split our chores equally, but where’s the fun in that? After five nerve-wrecking minutes and countless attempts to negotiate, Mike has to clean the kitchen and the dinner table, and mowing the lawn in the back yard tomorrow, whilst I’m stuck with our puke-stained clothes in the bathroom, plus having to care for the flower bed in our front yard that I threw up on last night. Well, at least I get to be outside then. Also, it’s still better than cleaning the damn kitchen; that shit takes forever. I cuddle Jason one more time before mom and dad take him for his evening walk, leaving Mike and me alone in the house.

“And remember, when we come home, you better have done your chores, boys.”

“Yes, daaad…” we groan, reluctantly going to work.

xxxxx

Oh man, I just finished collecting all of my dirty laundry, plus the clothes that were in the bathtub. I’m being a good brother and pick up this mountain of plain black socks in Mike’s room, as well. Okay, I don’t do it because I want to be nice; I do it because the washing machine isn’t full enough yet. I stuff all of our dirty clothes into the washing machine and press the ‘on’ button. Mom has told Mike and me how to operate the washing machine because she says that boys have to know how to do housework, too.

I know that Mike isn’t done yet in the kitchen, but I’m not really motivated to help him, so instead, I lazily start cleaning the bathroom. Mom normally keeps our bathroom clean while we’re at school, but I think she’d appreciate it if me and Mike would do that during the holidays. Plus, I don’t have anything else to do right now.

Suddenly, two small bottles of nail polish catch my eye. They’re both black, one glittery and one shiny, standing behind Mike’s toothbrush mug. I think Anna left them here last Halloween. She leaves a lot of her stuff at the house. Hairbands, nail polish, lipstick, clothes, small things that pile up and up. There’s also a small bottle of nail polish remover, I notice. I wonder what I’d look like with black painted nails. Would it look silly or cool? I bet it would be cute. I bet Dave would say it looks cute, too. Anna won’t come visit during the following two or three weeks, and I bet she doesn’t even know she left the nail polish here…

Okay, the decision is made. Tonight when everyone is asleep, I’ll paint my nails and see how it looks. I can always remove it if I don’t like it, right? Nobody would know. And if I like it, I’ll just keep it on and see what everyone has to say about it. I already know how dad will react; he’ll tell me to remove it and ask what I was thinking, but I don’t care. Hmmm, should I go for glittery or shiny? They both look cute...After I’m finished cleaning the bathroom, I take both bottles of nail polish and the remover into my room and hide them in the same place where I keep my diary.

I hate that whenever we’re grounded, the only place I can go is to therapy, and that’s only twice a month, but I still need it. Yes, I can talk to Mike about almost everything, but I have to admit that the therapy has really helped me once I accepted that I have no choice but to open up to Dr. Baker. What about my pizza delivery job? I wanted to save the money for my secret Wednesday activity…damn, I told mom and dad that every Wednesday, I have an extra shift at work in order to cover up what I really do at that time. Now what do I do? I have to go to work, even though I’m grounded. Of course mom and dad will let me go there, because they’re really proud of me for earning a bit of money all on my own, and they rarely question what I’m spending it on, because they say it’s my own money and my own responsibility.

I’ll have to talk to them about going to work, because today is Saturday and I have another shift on Tuesday and Thursday…but I still don’t know what to do about Wednesday. I might ask my boss if I can change my Thursday shift to Wednesday for the duration of the holidays. Maybe he’ll say yes; he’s nice. This way, nobody would know about what I’ve actually been doing on Wednesday for the past few months. Fuck, I have to practice! I can’t come back there after the holidays, having forgotten half of the moves and be out of shape. Okay…let’s see what I can do about that…there are a few moves I can do in my room, but actually, I need more space for that.

Our club had a performance one week before the start of the summer holidays, and for the first time, I’ve been on stage. It felt fucking amazing, but to be honest, I was a little sad that no one I knew came to see me. Well, that was obviously because I hadn’t told anyone, but I still would have liked for someone to be there. Dave’s parents weren’t there, either, because although they allowed him to go, they don’t really like that he’s doing this. I also felt bad because I had to lie to my parents about where I was going that day and the weeks before when we rehearsed for the show, but I can’t let them know I’m doing this.

Not yet. One of these days though, I have to confess. I have to tell mom and dad about it. I have to tell them what I’m planning to do after high school, too. Mike has it all figured out, of course, and they support his plans. He wants to go to art school after we graduate, and study to become a graphic designer. They’d support me, too, of course, after they’d have gotten over the initial shock. My mind drifts back to yesterday when Mike and I came home from school. We showed our grades to mom and dad, had a snack, and soon after that we got ready to go to Joe’s parents’ place. Mike’s grades were great, as always, and I still am a little jealous how he gets straight A’s in almost every subject while I’m just average, with a big fat D- in math. I won’t need math later in life, anyway, so why should I study now? That just sucks. Two more schoolyears and then I’m done with math forever.

xxxxx

It’s 1 am, the house is dark and silent, and I’m sneaking into the bathroom to paint my nails. I can hear Mike snore through the closed door next to the bathroom, which means he won’t wake up anytime soon. Perfect. I need time and privacy for this. Now I have to make a decision…glittery or shiny, glittery or shiny, glittery or shiny…glittery it is. That’s more, I don’t know…flashier, I guess. Yes, it’s also very girly, but as a guy painting his nails, I shouldn’t complain in the first place.

_Okay, now how do I do this? It can’t be that hard, girls do this all the time_ , I think, cursing under my breath as I’m applying the polish to my right thumb. My nails are really short and a little dirty, which is why painting them black is the best decision I’ve made today. A few minutes later, I’m done with the first hand, and I’m surprised how good it looks. Blowing on my nails to make the paint dry faster, I admire how glittery it is. Now on to the other hand. This one is going to be a little difficult, because I can’t even properly hold a spoon with my right hand. I’m cursing like a drunk sailor while struggling with painting the nails on my dominant hand, deeply focused on my task.

Here I am, sitting cross-legged on the floor in the bathroom in the middle of the fucking night, trying to paint my nails. There is a lot of toilet paper spread out across my lap and on the rug I’m sitting on in case I drip some of the nail polish on the floor, but I know it will be worth it. I hope I can improve my nail-painting skills until the next time I see Dave, because –

“What are you _doing_ , Chaz?!”

_Oh god, no. Why didn’t I hear the door?_ , I think as I look up to find my brother stumbling into the bathroom, looking half-asleep.

“What’s it look like?” I snap, embarrassed that I’ve been caught.

“Well, it kinda looks like you’re painting you nails. Like a girl! What were you thinking?”

“Jeez, Mike, you sound just like dad. I found Anna’s nail polish while cleaning up in here and I thought it would be cool to paint my nails black.”

“Okay, but…why?”

“I don’t know why! It just came over me. I think it looks cute. And it glitters.”

“Cute?! Glitter?! Damn, sometimes I think I have a sister…”

“Excuse me? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

Mike sighs, looking everywhere but me. _Why did he come here, anyway? He’s supposed to sleep, god dammit, not insult me because I’ve decided to paint my nails. It’s not even pink or some other girly color, it’s black, for fuck’s sakes! Ah, good, at least he looks guilty now._

“Nothing. I’m sorry. Just hurry up, okay? I gotta pee.”

“I don’t wanna disappoint you, but I think this is gonna take a while. I just can’t do this shit with my right hand. I mean, seriously, how do other people do this? Just five more minutes, okay?”

“Ugh, fine…” he groans, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, trying not to laugh his ass off while I keep struggling with the nail polish.

“If you could do something instead of just standing there and be annoying, that would be great.” I whisper to myself before I send him an icy glare.

“God dammit, give me that. I bet I can do it, too.” he replies, motioning to the little bottle of nail polish in my hand. A second later, he sits down opposite of me and snatches the nail polish out of my hand, complaining about the smell.

“Well, what did you expect? Flowers?”

“Shut up, Chaz, I’m trying to concentrate.” Mike is done with painting my nails five minutes later, and I have to say it looks a bit better than what I did, but I won’t tell him that.

“Hm, looks nice. Thanks, bro.”

“Nice? I think I did a pretty good job.”

“Fine, it looks good. What do you think mom and dad will say?”

“Dad is not gonna like it. I don’t know about mom, though. She’s pretty cool about everything. So, um…when are you gonna tell them you’re gay?”

“I’m not gay, I’m bi.”

“Same difference.”

“No, it’s not the same, we’ve talked about that.”

“Okay, yes, but dad is only gonna see the fact that you have a _boyfriend_ , you know that.”

“Yeah, I know…And, uh, I think mom knows. She asked me about it a few weeks ago, but I didn’t confirm anything.”

“She always knows everything. I don’t know how she does it…”

“So, what I’m saying is, I don’t know when I’ll tell them, but it has to be soon.”

When Mike agrees with me, I remind him that if and when I come out to our parents, we’ll have to tell them about my secret Wednesday class and faking the signature, as well. He suggests to just be honest, because we have no choice but to tell them the truth, anyway, and he says that it’s my decision when I want to come out.

xxxxx

The next morning at the breakfast table, Mike and I are anxiously waiting for mom or dad to notice my black, glittery nails. I’ve managed to hide my hands until we all sat down at the table to eat, and now it’s time. Mike said it would be a cool idea to just act like it was nothing special and see what they’d say, so that’s what I’m doing right now. I’m sitting here, nonchalantly spreading peanut butter on my toast, when dad suddenly grabs my hand and stares at it, then stares at me, and back at my hand. I glance at Mike, who’s trying very hard not to burst out laughing while mom looks up from her coffee to see what’s going on.

“What?” I ask dad.

“What is that?”

“What’s what?”

“This!”

“I don’t know what you mean.” I say, smiling innocently at him.

“Your nails, Chester.” Mom says, and I can see she’s a little amused by dad’s shocked reaction. “What’s with your nails?”

“Oh, that. I just thought it would be cool to paint them.”

“Cool?” dad repeats as if he had never heard that word in his whole life.

Which is impossible, by the way, because Mike and I use it all the time. I know dad’s angry, but I won’t let it get to me today. If I want to paint my nails, they’ll have to deal with it. Period.

“Yeah, cool.”

He lets my hand go, shaking his head.

“What were you thinking?”

Mike and I exchange a look, grinning at each other. I can see he’s having trouble swallowing his tea, and I don’t think it would be a good idea to make him laugh more now.

“I just told you, I think it looks good.”

“Anything you want to tell us, Chester?” mom asks carefully.

“What would I wanna tell you?”

“You tell me. And don’t be so sassy.”

“There’s nothing to tell, okay?! I found Anna’s nail polish. I used it because it looks cool, that’s all. What’s the big deal?”

Mom sighs, getting back to her breakfast. Dad, however, is not done yet.

“I want you to remove it.”

“But _I_ don’t!”

“Boys do not paint their nails, son. Remove it after breakfast, please.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“God fucking dammit, it’s just nail polish, dad! Chill!” I burst out, and that’s it for Mike; he spits his tea back into the cup, staining half the table in the process.

“Michael!” mom hisses before telling both of us to behave at the breakfast table instead of acting like five-year-olds.

The rest of the breakfast goes by slowly and peacefully. Despite of dad’s disapproving glances at my nails, nothing major happens. When we’re done eating, I have to clean the table and load the dishwasher while Mike goes into the garden to mow the lawn, something that both he and I hate to do. I can hear mom and dad have a discussion in the distance. Straining my ears to hear, I pick up something about dad ranting about my nails, and mom calming him down, saying that if I want to paint them, they should let me do it; also something about this being just a phase, or an act of rebellion. I’m finally done with my chores, ignoring that I have to care for the flower bed in the front garden later today. Making my way out of the kitchen, I hear dad call my name.

“Chester! Will you come here for a moment?”

“Yes, dad…”

We take a seat on the couch while mom goes outside, forcing Mike to help her with gardening once he’s done mowing the lawn, and I can’t help smirking at him through the window as he angrily waters the vegetables mom has planted there. Jason is with them, running around happily in our big garden.

“Listen, son, I didn’t want to freak out about you painting your nails, okay? I don’t like it, and I still don’t think boys should do this, but I won’t say anything against it anymore, okay? If you think you have to paint them, it’s your choice.”

“Thanks” I reply, smiling at him, his apology taking me by surprise.

He’ll get used to the nail polish. That’s not what I had expected, so I nod and turn to go, certain that the conversation is finally over.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” dad asks, and I sigh, rolling my eyes dramatically since he can’t see my face when I have my back turned to him.

“Um, upstairs?!” I say cheekily, turning around.

“No. Get back here, please, we have to talk about the cursing.”

Groaning, I turn around, seeing that dad is motioning with his index finger for me to come back. I’m leaning against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest, not at all in the mood for a scolding. I know that I have to stop cursing so much, and I also know my parents hate it, but sometimes I can’t help myself. Using all those swearwords helps me with my anger issues, it always has. Also, I sometimes do it just to rebel against their rules. He lectures me for cursing every few months when he’s had enough and thinks that telling me it’s not acceptable is going to make me stop doing it. He also lectures Mike for being the sassy brat that he is, but it never works. Reluctantly, I sit back down. Of course the conversation isn’t over…

“When I picked you up at the police station, Hahn told me how you reacted when the cops arrested you.” he explains in a calm tone, “I understand that it was a stressful situation, that you were drunk, and that resisting the arrest was probably just an instinctive reaction. But what Hahn told me about you yelling and cursing at the police is really not acceptable. It’s also not acceptable how much you curse at home, and I don’t even want to know how much you curse at school when you’re with your friends.”

“But, dad, I…you know that sometimes it just slips out. I can’t help it.”

“And _you_ know that that’s just a lame excuse. Of course you can. Having a dirty mouth is a choice, Chester. I understand that cursing can reduce your anger, but I want you to try dealing with that in some other way. Tell me what I used to do when you cursed or lied as a child.”

Groaning, I look in another direction, sitting on my palms to stop myself from fidgeting with my hands.

“You, um, you used to wash our mouths out with soap. But please don’t do that again, it was kinda unpleasant.” I say quietly, looking down on the floor.

“I won’t do that again. Ever. You know that. You and Michael are too old for that now, and have been for years, and it was a nasty thing to do, anyway. But I want you to understand that you have to stop using so many curse words. Actually, I want you and Michael to not curse at all, but I know that’s not going to happen anytime soon.”

“I understand.” I say, grinning sheepishly before looking up again.

“Good. Promise me you’ll try to curse less often?”

I chew on my bottom lip for a while, pondering on what to say. Maybe he’s right, maybe I really swear too much. I could at least try not do it so often for some time.

“Yes.”

“Thank you. Come on, I’ll help you with the front garden. I know you’re not thrilled to do that, and I figured you’d like some company instead of doing it alone.”

“Thanks, dad!”

Maybe the next two months won’t be so bad, after all. Now I only have to come out about the three, no, four secrets that Mike and I are keeping, and hope that mom and dad take them well.

xxxxx

**Thanks for reading; the lyrics are obviously “Pushing me away” by LP.**


	26. Chapter 26

The last two weeks have been difficult…they’ve been a lot of things at once. Wild, stressful, tense, full of arguments, disappointments, and yelling. Our first two weeks of grounding have also been outrageously boring; nothing to do but chores in and around the house and the garden. There’s just not that much to do when you can’t go out and meet your friends, or at least have them come over to play videogames. God, I hate this. I even picked up a few books and read four in two weeks, although I’ve never been a big fan of reading.

When Mike and I weren’t kept busy with stupid, pointless housework, we used the little free time we had to play with Jason or to argue with our parents; just because we’ve already had a zillion conversations about following rules and all this crap, doesn’t mean we can’t be defiant and question everything they tell us. And we’ve been defiant. Mike and I had a fight with our parents almost every day since our grounding started, and we got to the point when we outright refused to do what they said at all. We’ve not only yelled at _them_ , no, we’ve also yelled and screamed at _each other_. This rule of not leaving the house has turned Mike into an impatient Monster; he’s even moodier and grumpier than I am.

Sure, we’ve also had a little bit of fun in the past two weeks, but the truth is that I can’t wait for them to be over, which will be tomorrow, finally. It will also be the day that I can call Dave again, or maybe he will call me? I hope he does. We do have six more weeks of grounding after tomorrow, but at least we can make phone calls again, and maybe some of our friends can visit us.

I’m glad it was no problem to ask my boss at the pizza place to change shifts, so I can deliver pizzas on Tuesday and Wednesday evening. It means I have two short evenings per week where I can leave the house for a few hours, which is a nice change, but it still pisses Mike off that I get to leave the house, and he doesn’t. I told him he should have gotten a different job than helping other students with math, because that’s a job that only makes money during the school year, and not during the holidays. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, even though it’s the truth, because one second later a pillow was flying towards my face.

Oh, one thing I’m proud of is that during all of the arguments I’ve had with mom and dad, I managed to keep my promise and didn’t use a single swearword. Of course I haven’t left out the cursing when it was just Mike and me yelling insults at each other, or when I was alone in my room, angry at myself and the whole world. One of the most intense incidents was last weekend when an argument between Mike and dad got out of hand, and Mike just snapped. Mom was visiting a friend of hers at the time, so it was just dad, Mike and me at home. All day Mike had been bugging dad about the unfairness of being grounded, and while we were all sitting at the table, having a small lunch together, the conversation got out of control.

xxxxx

_“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Michael, but you’ll just have to deal with it until your two months are over.” dad explains for the hundredth time. “I told you, you have to follow the rules.”_

_Even I think that Mike has been annoying as hell all day, and while I agree with Mike’s opinion on how unfair it is to be grounded for such a long time, I keep my mouth shut for once in my life; dad looks as if he’s gonna lose his patience any second. I focus on my lunch, wishing for the power to be invisible as I watch from the corner of my eyes how Mike slams his glass of soda down onto the table, almost spilling it._

_“You know, what? IT SUCKS THAT YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO FORCE THOSE STUPID FUCKING RULES ON US!” Mike yells, getting louder with each word._

_I feel like today, Mike and I have reversed our roles, because all day I’ve been relatively quiet around mom and dad, although I’m in a terrible mood, and instead he has been the one on edge, the one who looks for confrontation. It seems to me that the therapy is actually working for me, because if I really want to, I do have my short temper under control sometimes._

_“We already talked about this. It is your fault you’re in this situation, you know that. You’re grounded because you and Chester made a bad choice, and I am not going to argue any further about this. I told you all about the conditions of your grounding last week, and there won’t be any exceptions, do I make myself clear?”_

_“God dammit, I HATE YOU!”_

_“Michael!” dad shouts as Mike gets up from the table and heads towards the stairs. “I’m talking to you!”_

_Mom would tell dad to leave Mike alone and let him cool down, but I think that this is not the time to make any suggestions to either of them. I continue trying to be invisible, slipping Jason a piece of my lunch while nobody is watching. Of course, Mike doesn’t mean it when he says he hates him; Mike and I have said that to each other a thousand times and we never mean it, but contrary to Mike, I would never say that to mom or dad._ _I hear dad shout something in Japanese, and it makes Mike stop in his tracks and turn around. He and dad stare at each other for a moment while I’m the only one who’s still sitting and eating lunch, watching the scene in front of me. I have rarely seen either Mike or dad look so furious. Mike holds dad’s stern gaze, and the air is thick with tension._

_“Fuck you!” Mike says, turning on his heel and going upstairs._

_He doesn’t get very far, though, because dad is right behind him, dragging him down the stairs and back into the living room by his upper arm. There is no wall between the kitchen, the dining room and the living room; it’s an open area that ends at the staircase, so I can see and hear everything that’s going on. I’ve finished my food, but instead of putting my empty plate into the dishwasher, I watch dad scold Mike in Japanese; something he hasn’t done in quite a while. Okay, I try not to watch, but it’s more like something that is happening in the room next to me that I am unable to ignore._

_“Michael Kenji,” dad begins, and from where I sit I can see that Mike has balled his hands into fists at his sides._

_By now I understand a few words in dad’s native language, and I know that he’s basically telling Mike that he won’t allow his attitude, and that Mike should be ashamed of himself for disrespecting him like that. Dad could have said all of those things in English, but I guess it’s more intimidating for Mike when he’s being reprimanded in Japanese. I can see how embarrassed Mike is, because as always when he’s being called out for being disrespectful or caught in a lie, his ears turn a deep shade of crimson and he’s trying to avoid eye contact, which is kind of impossible at the moment, because dad is holding his chin in one hand, and I can only imagine the glare that he sends Mike._

_I’ve been in this situation a few times, too, which is why I know that the grip around Mike’s upper arm is not too hard, and also that the hold on his chin is gentler than it looks, and just a means to force him to hold eye contact. I know that Mike regrets what he said, but he’s too angry to admit it yet. A few minutes later, the lecture is over, and I feel a little awkward sitting here and having listened to the whole thing, even though I understand only part of what was said._

_“Gomen’nasai, otosan” Mike apologizes, his voice still tense with anger as he bites down on his bottom lip, his eyes flickering over to me for a second._

_Our parents have never hesitated to scold one of us in front of the other, and I think that’s one of the reasons why Mike and I are so close; if we’re not currently mad at one another, we comfort each other when one of us has been told off for something, be it a minor offence or something big, like now. Also we like to make fun of each other for being scolded, if the reason isn’t serious enough in our opinion._

xxxxx

Currently I’m sitting on my bed, repainting my nails, a task that I can do without help by now, as I think of how dad had sent Mike to the garden to calm down, and had outright forbid me to go join him because he wanted Mike to reflect on it on his own. I had actually gone to my room after that, but not without opening the door that leads to the garden, and sending Jason out to Mike, because I know that just being with our dog helps him as much as it helps me when I’m in a bad mood. Then, after I had entered my room, I opened my window just a crack, so I could hear dad go talk to Mike in the garden thirty minutes later. That’s one of the things I love about my family – we can argue and yell at each other, but in the end, we always take the time to talk it out and make up with each other.

That was a week ago, and even though one could think that this was enough trouble for a while, this incident was just one of many, and I know that it won’t be the last huge fight. I still have to come out to my parents, and I’m not really sure how that’s going to go, although I know mom will be cool with it. She knows, anyway. She knows without having to ask.

The only reason why I have the time to repaint my nails now before dinner is that I won against Mike in rock paper scissors, which is why he has to help mom in the kitchen instead of me. I really like cooking, but today I’m not in the mood. Plus, she would try to interrogate me about my personal life again, and I want to keep all those important little things to myself for a little while longer before I come out about them. I’ve been in a fucking bad mood all day, but I’m also really excited and hopeful for tomorrow at the same time. Mike says I have mood swings like a girl, but I refuse to believe him.

When it’s finally dinner time, I go downstairs and help Mike set the table while dad returns from his office that is located in the small room next to his and mom’s bedroom. I know that he’s still not okay with me painting my nails, but I don’t care. I like them in black, and maybe I’ll even paint them in another color someday. Maybe shiny silver would look cool?

The atmosphere during dinner is still a little tense because of Mike’s and my behavior lately, but I guess mom and dad have simply decided to ignore Mike and me sitting there and being grumpy. The food is fantastic, as always, but we refuse to engage in any kind of conversation with our parents, which I know is a bit childish. However, we stick to our plan and talk only when it’s necessary. When dinner is over, Mike and I don’t even argue when mom tells us to do the dishes and clean the table together; we have decided to be angry in silence.

“Chester?”

“Yes?” I ask while bringing the plates into the kitchen.

“For how much longer do you plan on painting your nails?” he wants to know, standing in the doorway to the patio.

We have avoided that topic for quite some time, and I’m wondering why he has to bring it up now, just before he and mom were about to do some gardening. It’s late, past dinner, but they said they wanted to take some measurements…I guess we’re finally getting that pool that we always wanted, which would be fucking awesome, but right now, I don’t have time to think about pools, I’m fighting the urge to roll my eyes.

“I’ll keep them painted like that for however long I want.” I reply, immediately getting defensive.

“Listen, I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but when we go out to a restaurant or to some other public place, those black nails might make a bad impression.”

“And do I look like I care about what kind of impression I make?! No.” I snap at him.

“Chester, calm – “

“You’re always telling us what to do! Always! I know what you think of me painting my nails, and dressing the way I do, and wearing my hair like – “

“Hey, stop it. I don’t want this conversation to escalate like all the previous ones about this subject.”

“Then don’t fucking tell me what to do!”

_Damn, there goes my promise to not curse anymore…why am I so angry all of a sudden?_

“I am not.”

“Sure you are! You don’t want your fancy lawyer friends to see me dressing like that!”

“That is _not_ true!”

“Yes, it is! And guess what?! I’m gonna get my ears pierced when I’m 18!”

“Oh, no, you’re not, young man.”

“Fuck yes, I am!”

“Firstly, stop swearing like that, please, and secondly, there’s no reason to yell, keep your voice down.”

_How can he be so calm? I’m fucking fuming. I’m old enough to decide things for myself, and dad is totally exaggerating. He’s acting as if I got another tattoo without asking, or anything…_

“I yell whenever the fuck I want!”

“Hey, what’s going on here? Can’t we spend one day without fighting?” mom interrupts, returning to the living room and leaving the door to the patio open.

She’s right, there hasn’t been a single day in two weeks where it hasn’t been either me or Mike causing trouble. Still, I’m angry as hell, and I won’t give in about the painted nails. I glance at Mike who’s trying not to make too much noise while loading the dishwasher. He’s been kind of quiet since his fight with dad last week, and I appreciate him taking the used plate I’m still holding out of my hands.

“I was just asking Chester how long he plans on keeping his nails like that, and – “

“And I’ll keep them like that as long as I fucking like it, god dammit”

Mom sighs at my stubbornness, shaking her head.

“I want you both to calm down, okay? Go help Michael in the kitchen, Chester.”

“No.” is all I say as I make my way upstairs.

I’m mumbling a string of curse words under my breath, fully intending on mom and dad hearing them. My next goal is to slam the door of my room as loudly as humanly possible. Stomping up the stairs to the first floor, I hear dad’s voice.

“CHESTER CHARLES BENNINGTON-SHINODA!”

Crap. Full name means trouble; it always does. I took their family’s name after the adoption, but I also wanted to keep my real mother’s name and be reminded of her, which is why for the last few years, my last name has been a compound name. Right now, though, I wince at my full name, because Mike and I only get called by those when we’ve really crossed the line, but to be honest I’m so pissed off right now that I don’t even care about crossing any lines anymore.

“Don’t you walk out on us! And you know what happens when you slam the door!” dad calls, but I try to ignore him.

Yes, I know what happens. Our parents have this stupid rule that when Mike or I slam our doors one too many times it gets taken out of its’ frame for a few days, until we’ve learned to treat doors well and not break them. This has happened to me a few times before, and let me tell you – not having a door to your bedroom is no fun. Mike has lost his door privileges more than just once, as well, so we said that if one of us would ever have his bedroom door taken away again we’ll just drag our mattress into the other’s room and sleep there until we get our door back; I wonder if he’d still be willing to let me sleep in his room, because we were like 12 years old when we came up with this. The last time we shared a room because of this was about two years ago, when Mike slammed the hell out of his door after an argument about video games. I just want to be alone in my room and blast music. Then, a strange feeling of rebellion comes over me as I run down the stairs again, tired of being told what to do, tired of being grounded.

“You can’t tell me anything, you’re not my father!” I hear myself shout, and as soon as the words are out, I realize that I made a mistake.

I slap my hand over my mouth, wishing I could take it back. It’s the one thing I swore to myself I would never use in an argument, but now it has happened, and I don’t know what to do. One second passes, two seconds pass, five seconds pass, but nobody says anything; we all just stare at each other.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper, looking at dad who hasn’t said anything yet.

I can see the wheels turning in his head, he’s trying to figure out how to react, and then he just nods as if nothing had happened. He looks shocked out of his mind, and I know he has never expected to hear this statement from me.

“Why don’t you two go upstairs for a while? We can work this out later.” Mom suggests, looking at Mike and me.

We go to our rooms wordlessly, and just when I’m about to close my door, Mike asks:

”What you said there…you didn’t mean that, did you?”

“No, I…I didn’t even _want_ to say it…”

“Then why _did_ you?”

“I don’t know!”

“Its gonna be okay, you know?” he asks as he pulls me into a quick, one armed hug before we enter our rooms, and I close my door extra carefully and silently before I can’t fight the tears anymore and let myself fall onto my bed.

I swallow the lump in my throat and bury my head in the pillow. This time I really went to far, dad is not gonna forgive me, I know it. I’m trying to calm myself down, thinking back to what I learned in therapy about dealing with overwhelming emotions. Happy thoughts, Chester, happy thoughts, you can do it, I think, but a second later the bad thoughts take over and I openly sob into the pillow, unable to fight the voice in my head that’s telling me I’m not worthy of love and family because I ruin everything. This goes on for several minutes before I manage to calm down a bit and turn on my back.

“Chaz? Are you alright? Shall I come over?” Mike yells through the wall.

_Crap, I don’t want him to hear me cry._

Leave me alone!” I yell back, my voice cracking at the end as I’m getting choked up again.

“You sure? I can come over if you want.”

“No! I want to be alone!”

Holding my breath, I wait for him to say something, but I just hear him sigh, and then there’s silence again in the other room. I throw one of my two pillows across the room to get rid of some of the frustration I feel; it lands on my desk, almost knocking over the framed picture of me and the gang, the one that hung on the wall in my room at the trailer park. I take a couple of deep breaths to stop myself from hyperventilating, slowly calming myself down, but the calmness doesn’t last long, because I can feel that my thoughts are drifting back into the dark place that I can rarely get out of on my own.

_Why can’t I ever do anything right? I’m worthless. Worthless scum. What was I thinking, saying that to dad? He looked so heartbroken when I said it. I’ve been causing so much trouble lately…all these past weeks Mike and I have been terrible sons. Not weeks, you idiot. Months. They gave me a home, and what am I doing in return? I’m a fucking brat. I should appreciate them more. I mean, I do appreciate them. I love them, but I’m always being a dick lately. Mike takes his family for granted. He doesn’t know what it’s like not having parents who do everything for you, who talk to you when there’s a problem instead of beating you up. He also can’t imagine what it feels like to not have a place you call home, but a place you don’t want to return to after school, a place where you feel unsafe at all times, especially at night._

The things that Steven did to me have never really left me; they stay in the back of my mind and come out in the most terrible moments. Even though I don’t want to, I compare every situation at home to what he would have done. Every time I screw up and end up getting lectured or grounded, I think about what would have happened in this situation if I were still living with Steven, and when the initial anger has faded, I always realize how lucky I am to have them as my family instead of him. When I heard Mike tell dad to go fuck himself, I thought that Steven would have beaten me half-unconscious for something like that. Mike can’t imagine what people who don’t have parents that are so patient and understanding go through, despite of all the horrible things of my past that I told him over the years.

_God, I still hate feelings, even after all those years of therapy. I’m so weak. I have learned to deal with my confusing emotions, but sometimes I feel like there’s a switch flipped in my brain that releases all the anger and frustration at once._

_And yes, I do appreciate mom and dad, but do they appreciate me, too? Do they really love me like they love Mike, or do they regret taking me in? I bet they regret it. I bet they wish Mike had never met me, I’ve been such a bad influence on him. They would all be so much happier without me. I don’t even wanna know what would happen if I came out as bi… Dad would be so disappointed; and he’d be right. I am a disappointment. I was almost ready to come out, I wanted to do it tomorrow, or maybe the day after tomorrow, but at least this week, and now I’m not so sure anymore. I’m screwing up everything I do…_

_No. No, don’t think that. You can do it, you are strong. Stop these negative thoughts. Stop them right now. Breathe in, breathe out. And stop crying, for fuck’s sakes. Strong, strong, strong. That’s what you are. Not weak, not disappointing. Strong._

I force my mind out of the dark place and sit up with my back against the wall, grabbing my diary to make sense of my thoughts when I suddenly hear someone knock on my door.

xxxxx Downstairs, 20 minutes ago

“What am I doing wrong with him, Donna? I don’t have the energy to argue all the time, and the past two weeks have been nothing but arguing and fighting. Every little situation turns into a fight, with both of them.”

“I know, honey. But this phase will pass, trust me. You’re doing nothing wrong, you know how Chester is; he regretted it the second he said it. He speaks without thinking when he’s angry, and you know he didn’t mean it.”

“Do I? He’s right; I’m not his father. You’re not this mother. We are _not_ his parents, Donna, and he has got every right to feel the way he does.”

“Shh, no. We are his parents, Muto. Not biologically, but you, me, Michael and Chester are a family, and I know he sees us as such. I know he thinks of me and you as his mom and dad, don’t you think?”

Donna watched her husband nod as they sat on the bench in the garden, not holding, but squeezing each other’s hands. The sun was still up, but it was around 8 pm, and they had planned their evening so much differently. Now it was, once again, family crisis time, like it had been so often during these past two weeks.

“Tell me, honey, why does it bother you so much that Chester paints his nails?” Donna asked in order to prepare Muto for the big confession she knew Chester had to make one of these days.

“Because he’s a boy, almost a man, and I don’t think it’s appropriate for men to paint their nails. It’s simple, really. Women can do that, but men don’t. I really hope that’s just his way of rebelling and it’s just a phase that will be over soon.”

“I, I don’t think so.” Donna admitted. “I think he’s just a little different than other people…other boys. You know, like Anna is different than other girls. She dresses differently than the others and she doesn’t care what people think of her, and Chester is the same, and to be honest, I think we should respect that.”

“Well, yes, but – “

“Don’t you always preach that respecting others is one of the most important things?”

“It just feels as if he’s doing all of these things just to provoke us. The tattoos, the weird hairstyle, the nails, everything.”

“I’ve told you before, being different is nothing bad. If he wants to dress like that and paint his nails, we should let him. I know that he did most of these things without asking first, like getting the tattoos, but there is nothing we can do about it, anyway.”

“It’s still not okay for a boy to – “

“To what, Muto? We don’t live in the fifties anymore, and I know we’ve had a dozen talks like this one, but you really should try to be more open towards other lifestyles.”

“Other lifestyles? What do you mean by that?”

_Jeez, men are so bad at taking hints,_ Donna thought. _You either have to spell things out for them or they won’t get it._

“Nothing, just that we should accept him for who he is.”

“I do!”

“No, not always, Muto. Think about it. We need to remember that even though they’re both almost adults now, they still need us to be their parents from time to time. They need someone who listens to their worries and takes them seriously, they need to feel loved and appreciated, and I know, darling, I know that Chester feels that way about us as his parents, okay? Don’t ever doubt that.”

Sitting on the uncomfortable, hard, wooden bench, Muto listened to his wife’s advice. She always knew how to handle emotional family situations, and she also knew how to chase his doubts about not being a good father away. After that disastrous meeting all those years ago that ended in him cutting all contact to his own parents, he had always questioned his abilities to be a good husband, a good father, and a good person in general, although he rarely talked about those issues.

“I love you, honey.” he said, wrapping an arm around his wife.

“I love you, too.”

They shared a few quick kisses before Donna announced she would go check on their sons, while Muto thought about what to say to Chester.

xxxxx

After Donna had briefly spoken to Mike, who was sitting on his bed and scribbling in his sketchbook, she went to see Chester. She knocked on his door and opened it, finding him in the exact same position as Mike; with his back to the wall they were sharing, lost in his own thoughts; but while Mike had occupied his mind with drawing, Chester was clutching his diary, covering the page with his messy handwriting. When she entered Chester’s room, he looked up and put the diary aside, but kept fidgeting with the pen in his hand while he hastily wiped the tears from his wet cheeks with the corner of his blanket, clearly ashamed of being caught crying.

“Mom, I…uh, will you please tell dad that I didn’t mean what I said? I know that he probably doesn’t want to talk to me right now, and that he’s, like, really angry with me, and - “

“Pumpkin, slow down, okay?” Donna interrupted his ramblings, sitting down next to him, watching with interest when he put his diary further away from them, and into a safe distance behind a stack of schoolbooks.

“Muto knows that you didn’t mean it the way you said it, but you can tell him that personally in a few minutes.”

“Okay…he’s…he’s not angry?”

“I don’t think so. But I want you to learn one thing, Chester.”

“Yes?” he asked, struggling to stop fidgeting with the pen in his hands, before he eventually placed the pen on top of the diary and sat on his hands in order to focus.

“Think before you speak. I mean it; it doesn’t matter how furious you are, and the next time you find yourself getting angry in an argument, think before you say something that might hurt others.”

He nodded, pressing his palms harder onto the mattress.

“I…I promise.”

“Thank you, Chester.”

“And, um, mom…I’m, I’m really sorry about what I said earlier, you know that, right?”

“Yes, I know, but I want you to apologize to Muto, not to me.”

“I will.” he replied in a small voice that was so different than the rather confident and not so quiet voice he usually had.

“Anything else you want to tell me? Anything at all?” she asked carefully.

_Oh god, not this again_ , Chester thought as he bit his lips, contemplating whether to talk about his secret or not.

“Next week.” he said eventually. “Next week I’ll tell you, but I don’t want to today.”

It was painfully obvious that Chester knew Donna knew exactly what he was talking about, but he wasn’t ready for saying it out loud yet.

“Okay. Just remember that I’m proud of you and that there’s nothing you can’t tell me.”

“I know.” he mumbled. “And, um, there’s actually more than one thing I have to tell, and I’m really scared of talking about those things.” he admitted.

“Don’t be scared, we’re always there for you. Plus, it can’t be _that_ bad, can it?”

_Oh god, if you knew…_ he thought as he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, thoughts about faked signatures running through his brain.

”Right.” he said, swallowing down his worries, and accepting his mother’s hug before she left his room.

xxxxx

Downstairs, Muto was sitting in the little room he called his home office. It had a desk with a few framed pictures of his family, an office chair, lots of shelves filled with books and documents from work, and a small couch he was currently sitting on, thinking back to a memory from a year ago, when his sons had announced they didn’t want to go to guitar practice anymore. Mike’s reasons had been that in his opinion, he was already as good as the instructor and that he wanted to continue teaching the instrument to himself, while Chester had said that if Mike wanted to stop going to the classes, he wanted to stop, as well. However, Muto had known that there were other reasons for Chester to stop playing guitar, so later that evening when Mike was painting in his room and Donna was watching that TV series she liked, he sat down with Chester in the garden and asked him what was really up.

_“I’m glad we’ll quit the guitar practice. I, I didn’t want to go for a few weeks now, to be honest…” Chester had admitted to him that evening. “But I thought you like playing an instrument? I thought you were both having fun there.”_

_“I do like it! And at first it was fun, but…it…it just sucks that he’s better at everything we do together, you know? Mike’s better at school, better at playing music, better at everything.”_

_“Oh, come on, that’s not true. There are so many things you can do better than him.”_

_“No, there aren’t...”_

_“Yes, there are, Chester. What about singing? Climbing trees? Writing poems? You’re better than Michael at all of these things.” Muto said, smiling at his son as he tried to cheer him up._

_“Oh, that’s nothing. Anybody could do that.”_

_“No, not anybody. There’s no reason to sell yourself so short, Chester. You’re good at a lot of things, and you don’t have to compare yourself to Michael all the time, okay?”_

_This had been one of the rare occasions where there had actually been jealousy between his sons, but he was determined to make Chester understand that there was no reason for that. They were always so competitive, usually in a normal way, but sometimes it showed that despite of the huge ego Chester was developing, he still had a lot of insecurities._ _A few weeks later, when Muto had already thought Chester had given up on playing guitar, he had heard him play alone in his room one evening while Mike was at Anna’s parents’ house and Donna was invited to a cooking party at her colleague’s place. He had been glad to hear Chester play guitar again, because it was the first time in weeks, and when he had asked him what had made him want to play the instrument again, Chester had answered that it felt better to do it when he was alone and not being pressured or compared to anyone._

Muto snapped out of his memories when his wife came downstairs again, joining him on the couch in his office. He had been so deep in thought that he hadn’t even heard the door. They should go out again; just him and Donna to a nice restaurant. Just one evening without drama, without yelling, without arguments, without worries. Maybe they had to stop overprotecting their sons, and instead let them have a little more freedom? It was a question he had asked himself more and more often in the recent weeks.

Donna gave him a gentle kiss, and before she left, she told him she was going to the living room to watch some TV, and that she wanted him and Chester to have a calm and honest conversation without accusations. He was just about to get up and go to Chester’s room when he heard a tentative knock on his office door.

xxxxx Chester’s POV

About five minutes after mom has left my room, I find the courage to go downstairs and talk to dad. To be honest, I’m really not in the mood to talk about my feelings; I have to do that in therapy more than enough, but I feel like I’ve made a really big mistake by saying that he can’t tell me what to do because he’s not my real father. I don’t even know my biological father; I don’t want to, either. Also I don’t have a lot of memories of my real mom, and the only thing that keeps her alive in my memory is the photo album that I keep in the same drawer where I keep my diary. The only people who I truly consider to be my parents are Mike’s parents, and I think they know that. “Come in.” he says, and on the other side of the door, I tell my hyper-active brain to stay calm. I could barely hold back the tears when mom talked to me earlier, and I know it’s gonna be even harder now. _Fuck, I’m such a sissy._

“Hey.” I say when I enter his home office, a little unsure what to do next, so I just stand in the doorway like some idiot.

“Take a seat, Chester.” he replies in a much nicer tone than I expected, so I close the door behind me and sit down next to him. “Tell me, Chester…have I not been a good father to you?” he asks me straightforwardly before I can say anything.

This question takes me by complete surprise; never in a million years would I have thought I’d hear such a question from him. Of course he’s been a good father to me. The best I could have ever hoped for, if I’m being honest. He looks concerned, and I know he’s seriously doubting whether he’s being a good dad or not. I let out a shaky breath before I answer, doing everything in my power to fight the tears that are already threatening to fall.

“You’ve been the best.” I say honestly, looking at him and hating myself for being on the brink of crying. “I’m…I’m really sorry for what I said earlier. It was just something I said because I was angry, I promise I didn’t mean it!”

He wraps an arm around my shoulder and then pulls me into a hug; I feel way too old and too cool for this, but I reluctantly accept the hug and now I can’t stop those fucking tears anymore. Man, I hate feelings. I’m always so emotional, although I really don’t want to be; maybe that’s because I was forbidden to show feelings when I was a child? I should ask my therapist about this...

“Shhh, it’s okay. I know that you didn’t mean it, son.”

“No, it’s not okay.” I reply quietly. _I said something terrible earlier and I really don’t think it’s okay to say what I did_. “I swear, I was just angry when I said it, I’m really, really sorry, dad.”

I continue to ramble apologies while we’re still hugging. I hate the way crying feels; the way I can’t breathe like a normal person, the way the tears burn in my eyes and I can’t do anything to stop them from falling, and most of all that I’m so helpless against my own emotions. _Fucking sissy, calm down_ , I think to myself as he continues to tell me that everything is okay and that he’s not mad at me. I squirm out of the hug and sit a bit farther away from dad, hugging my knees.

“Why are you always so angry, Chester?” dad asks in a patient tone, and I can only shrug my shoulders as I try to calm my breathing.

“I…I guess it’s because I just don’t like people telling me what to do. I don’t intend to be angry at you and mom, it’s, um, it’s just that Mike and I are kinda…unhappy with being grounded and all of that.”

“But you _do_ understand why you and Michael are in your current situation, don’t you?” he asks.

“Well, yeah, sure, but it still sucks ass, I, I mean, um, it still bothers us.” I say when I realize that I probably shouldn’t curse like that. Surprisingly, he doesn’t say anything at the curse words and just smiles to himself, and then we look at each other and laugh. “Can I ask you something?” I blurt out.

“Of course. Anything.”

“Why do you always have to be so strict about the rules and everything? It’s not like we’re still in elementary school and need someone to tell us how to behave.”

_Damn, that’s gonna come back to bite me in the ass when we tell him about faking his signature since 8th grade…_

“No, you don’t need someone to tell you that, but your mother and I are trying to raise you two to become reasonable adults, and – “

“But, we are!”

He raises a single eyebrow at me, and I burst into laughter as I remember the countless incidents that have happened lately.

“Okay, fine, maybe not always.” I admit, when I suddenly hear my dog scratch the outside of the office door in order to be let in.

I swear, that dog always senses when I need him, so I get up and open the door for Jason, and as soon as I’ve closed the door and sat down again, he jumps onto the couch with us, taking up almost the whole space. It comforts me to pet his fluffy ears; it always does, and as dad and I pet our dog, I feel as if I should just blurt out all of my secrets right now. I don’t wanna wait anymore to come out about them, but I know it’s not the right time yet.

xxxxx

**Thanks for reading!**


	27. Chapter 27

“What if we make a deal, Chester? Once your and Michael’s grounding is over, mom and I will be a lot less strict. I know that you are in fact old enough to not be so over-protected anymore, but I keep worrying about you two, can you understand that?”

“Of course.” I reply honestly.

“Good. I’ll try to give you a bit more freedom though, how does that sound?”

“Sounds great, dad. And, um, one more thing. I…I know I have already apologized, and I’ve said this a hundred times since I came in here, but, um, I really do see you and mom as my parents. I don’t even know why I said that thing earlier…”

“It’s okay, Chester. Already forgotten and forgiven. I just want you to know that people can be a family even if they are not related by blood, you hear me?”

“Yes, dad.” I say, smiling to myself as I look down to my hand that’s resting on Jason’s head.

“Being a family has nothing to do with being related; it has to do with trusting and respecting each other and having a strong bond that nothing can break. You do not have to be my biological child to be in that group of people, okay?”

There’s suddenly a gigantic lump in my throat that I’m trying to swallow, and once again, my eyes are burning as I try to hold back tears. I’m trying to say something in return, but I simply can’t; I can only nod, and I hope that’s enough for him to know that I understood what he meant.

“Hmhm.” I eventually manage to say before we hug again. There’s no doubt in my mind that they _are_ my family.

xxxxx

On the other side of the door, Mike was eavesdropping, straining his ears to hear more of the conversation. His only goal had been going to the kitchen to get a glass of water, but then he had decided that listening to his father’s and brother’s conversation was much more interesting. He was leaning against the wall next to the door, trying to block out that silly medical TV show that his mother was watching, and instead focused on what was spoken in his father’s office.

When he heard his father explain his definition of family, Mike almost teared up, but he managed to breathe through it and calm down. He knew that eavesdropping was impolite, and that he had no right to listen in on this private moment, but he had never been able to stop himself from listening to things that weren’t for him to hear.

xxxxx

Dad and I talked until it was late that day, and at the end of the evening, I felt much better than I had all day. Now it’s Monday, and I can’t wait to talk to Dave again! Today’s the day when Mike and I can make phone calls again, which is why I’ll be the first person who runs to the phone when it rings today. The last time we talked, Dave said he’d call; I’m so excited! Plus, I don’t want anyone else to answer the phone when he calls. Mike would be okay, because they already know each other, but I want neither mom nor dad to ask me who was that guy on the phone…

It sucks that our phone is located on the small dresser in the hallway, and that we can’t take it anywhere. I’ve watched the phone all day, anxious as hell because…what if it rings and I can’t get to it first? Dad is still at work, but mom has just come home an hour ago. She works only until midday, which is why Mike and I would technically be able to sneak out in the morning and be back before she comes home, but we prefer to sleep until it’s almost noon every day. We plan on sneaking out in the following few days though, when the tense atmosphere at home has lifted a little. It’s gotten a lot better since my talk with dad yesterday, but we don’t want to risk anything yet.

Another reason why we didn’t sneak out during the first two weeks was because mom and dad would have known if we had done anything against the rules, anyway. On the other hand, they can’t control where we go, we’re almost adults, and they can’t keep an eye on us 24/7. We already wasted two weeks of our holidays with sleeping half the day and doing our chores in the house and the garden, so this week it’s time for some action. But until then, I’ll sit by the phone and wait until Dave calls.

“Chester pumpkin? Do you mind helping me with those cherries? They won’t wash themselves, you know?” mom calls from the garden.

I groan, not at all motivated to help her pick the ripe cherries from the tree when I can spend my time staring at the phone.

“Why can’t Mike do that?” I shout so that she can hear me outside.

“Because I’m already in the kitchen, you dork!” I hear him yell from there.

Oh right, I forgot that she made him prepare the chicken and sauce for tonight, which is gonna take hours, and that she said he needs to learn how to cook better. I smirk to myself as I think that another thing I’m better at doing than Mike is cooking. I briefly have to think back to this morning, when he called Anna right after he got up and they talked for almost an hour; I was so jealous.

“Yes, Chester. Come here, please.” Mom adds.

“But…but…I’m busy.” I lie as I wreck my brain for an excuse why I can’t leave the hallway.

“Doing what?” she asks.

“Uuum…”

“Listen, pumpkin, come here. I’m not going to repeat myself.”

Groaning and complaining, I join her in the garden; not without peeking into the kitchen to see Mike whisper swearwords to himself as he’s hunched over the recipe mom wrote down for him. He looks stressed, doing dozens of things at once and dripping creamy peanut butter sauce on the floor. I stick my tongue out to him and he flips me off, and we both know that if our parents had seen that exchange, they’d tell us to behave. We like being stupid and childish sometimes, and whenever there’s an opportunity not to behave, we take it. I eventually walk into the garden and help mom with the cherries while simultaneously listening if the phone makes any noises.

An hour later, all the cherries are picked and washed, and just when mom is telling me not to laugh at Mike trying to do his best in the kitchen, the phone rings. In a matter of seconds I’ve left the room and leave mom and Mike alone.

“I’ll get it!” I yell as I run to the phone, almost tripping over my own feet in the process. “Hello?” I ask breathlessly.

“Chaz? It’s Dave.”

_He called! He called! He called!_

Smiling like an idiot, I lean against the wall as I hold the phone to my left ear.

“Hey, how are you?”

“Pretty good, considering that we’re both still stuck at home. I, uh, I was wondering if we could somehow meet? It’s great to hear your voice again, by the way. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

“Why are you whispering?!”

“Because I’m not alone at home and I don’t want anyone to hear us talking.”

“Oh, okay.”

“So, um, I’d love to meet you, but we have to be careful. I’m only free until about 1:30 pm, then I have to be home because mom returns from work. When are you free? I thought your mom stays at home?”

“Well, yes, but she volunteers at the soup kitchen of our church everyday from about 10 to 4. We’d have a bit of time to go somewhere.”

“That would be so cool!”

“Maybe we could go to the youth center, or to a café or something?”

“Yeah, we should! Tomorrow at 10 am at the café near the park?”

“Sounds good. I’ll be there, Chaz. Listen, I can’t talk more, I’ve just heard the doorbell. Must be my stupid neighbor again. I’m really looking forward to tomorrow, bye!”

“Me, too. Bye!” I say back.

My face hurts from smiling so much, but I can’t help it. I haven’t been this happy since our last date, and I can’t wait until tomorrow, even though it means sneaking out and breaking rules, but I was going to do that this week, anyway. This phone call was way shorter than I had hoped for, but at least I’m going to see him tomorrow! I was whispering the whole time, so mom surely hasn’t heard anything, right?

Meanwhile, I’ve heard Mike distract mom by asking her stupid questions about vegetables and chicken so that she wouldn’t have a chance to catch even one word of me and Dave talking on the phone. She knows what Mike is doing of course, but she plays along, probably seeing an opportunity to teach him a bit more about cooking.

“Who was that?” mom wants to know.

“Who was what?” I ask, acting innocent.

“On the phone, Chester.” she replies, smiling at me.

“Oh, that. Um…”

I look at Mike for support, who’s still struggling with preparing dinner for tonight, but he shakes his head at me, silently telling me that I’m on my own this time. I heavily sigh, looking around in the kitchen to find a way out of this conversation.

“Can we not talk about this now, mom?”

“Tell me, Chester, how much longer do you want to wait with this?”

“Just a few more days? Please?”

“Alright. Come on, help Michael with the chicken.”

“Okay…” I say when she leaves us alone and Mike starts complaining that he doesn’t need any help and can prepare dinner on his own.

We all know he can’t. He once burned pasta, I don’t even know how that’s possible…

“Seriously, Chaz, you _have_ to tell them. Just do it today when dad comes home; it will all be okay.”

“That’s easy for _you_ to say! You’re not the one who has to tell their parents he has a _boyfriend_! By the way, I’m going out with Dave tomorrow at 10, you have to cover for me when mom and dad ask what we have done all morning.” I say in a quiet tone as I expertly take the whole chicken and cut it into pieces before marinating it.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re gonna sneak out without me? I thought we wanted to go to the skatepark together while mom is at work!”

“I’m sorry, but I haven’t seen him in more than two weeks. Two fucking weeks, Mike! You’d do the same if you had a chance to meet Anna. Go play videogames or something! We can go to the skatepark the day after tomorrow.”

We continue to argue, angrily whispering while we prepare dinner like mom told us to. I’m almost sure that the little parent-obeying voice in his head tells him that we’re not allowed to play videogames for the next two weeks, but a few seconds later, I can see that he’s starting to like the idea. Mom’s been doing some gardening while we were in the kitchen, and just as our whispered fight is about to get out of control, she’s entering the room again, announcing that she’s going to take Jason for a walk.

“Jesus, boys! Are you fighting again?”

“No, we’re, uh, having a discussion.” I defend us while still threatening Mike with the cold chicken leg that I’ve been holding while I argued with him.

“Yes, that’s true.” he agrees, snatching the chicken leg out of my hand and covering it with the marinade.

“Fine. Just don’t kill each other while I’m away. I’ll be back in an hour.”

xxxxx

Oh man, today has been the best day in weeks! As soon as both mom and dad had left the house, I left, too. My hair was spiked to perfection and my nails were black and shiny as I told Mike that I’d be home before mom got back, but he was already on the phone with Anna. At precisely 10 am I chained my bike to the tree in front of the café that Dave and I wanted to meet in. When I walked in he was already there, deep in thought as he studied the different coffees, pancakes and waffles they offer there.

We spent the morning with eating waffles and talking about having missed each other in the past two weeks; we made plans to secretly sneak out to see each other while our parents were at work; we shared a few kisses in the privacy of the corner we sat in, and for the first time in my life, I had coffee. Real coffee! Finally! It tasted even beter than I thought, and I might or might not have had three cups that morning. Fine, it really did make me feel more hyper than usually, but it was definitely worth it.

Three hours later, it was time to go home for me, knowing that I’d see him again two days later. When I came home, I brushed my teeth for five minutes straight and emptied a pack of chewing gum to get rid of the coffee smell, so that mom wouldn’t notice anything. I’m pretty sure she didn’t, and Mike and I spent the rest of the day hanging out in the garden, playing fetch with Jason and just enjoying a day without arguments.

Long story short, the day was perfect. Until about six thirty, when dad came home. He brought a guest whom Mike and I weren’t ready to see, and whom we wanted to avoid talking to at all cost: Joe’s dad, officer Hahn. Dad said that he had stopped at the grocery store on the way home and met Hahn there, who was just done with his shift. His wife and son were visiting relatives while he had to stay home because of his job, which was why he was preparing for a quiet evening with pizza and beer, but since my parents always like having guests in our house, dad invited him to dinner.

There is one person in the world who is always, and I mean _always_ , prepared for guests, and that person is mom. During dinner, Mike and I were quietly eating, avoiding eye contact with everyone at the table, and desperately hoping for our guest to leave. Unsurprisingly, we had no such luck. First, our parents made us apologize to officer Hahn for causing so much trouble that night when we were drunk in public, and then we had to thank him for letting us get away with it. Man, that was embarrassing, because unlike Mike, I do remember most of this night, and I also remember that scene I made at the police station, and how I convinced myself afterwards that the best way to deal with it would be to avoid Joe’s dad for the rest of my life.

But after all, he is a really cool guy, despite of hs job, so he accepted our apologies and then, shortly after we had asked him about how Joe was doing, we saw an opportunity to escape from the living room and went upstairs.

xxxxx

It’s Saturday, and I still haven’t come out yet. I plan on doing it today, and when we all sit down and have lunch together, I’ll do it. I’m gonna need Mike’s support, though, because we still have to confess a few more things. He’s been getting impatient lately, saying that I’ve waited too long and that if I don’t come out to our parents soon, he’d do it for me. I told him that he wouldn’t want to be pushed out of the closet, either, and that I’d be patient with him if he were in my situation, but in a way, I can understand him. We’ve talked a lot about me telling mom and dad about being bi and having a boyfriend, and Mike has been pushing me to say something for days now.

Until this morning, when I told him I was ready for it, and we said that however mom and dad reacted, especially dad, he would stick up for me. Now we’re having lunch, sitting at the table while the radio is on quietly in the background. Our parents say that it’s important to have all the meals together instead of eating alone in front of the TV or something, because it strengthens the family bond; hm, maybe that’s true, I actually like these traditions we have. Looking out of the glassdoor that leads to the patio, I watch Jason sleep in the sun for a moment before I sign to Mike that I’m ready. He signs back that everything is going to be okay, and I push all the doubts I had to the back of my mind.

“Mom, dad, I…I have to tell you something.”

“Yes?” dad asks while mom is already smiling to herself, knowing that today I’ve finally found the courage to come out to them.

“It’s kind of a lot, and…and you might get mad at me…at us, for some of those things.”

“Okay?” dad raises an eyebrow as Mike signs to me that I should get to the point.

“It’s sort of a long story…”

“Just start at the beginning, pumpkin.” Mom says encouragingly.

“I, um, I’ve told you that on Wednesday, I have a shift at the pizzeria, but…I actually don’t. My shifts are on Tuesday and Thursday, and I…I just said that I had another one on Wednesday, so you don’t wonder where I’m going on that day after school every week.”

The look mom gives me clearly says ‘Where the hell are you going with this? That’s not what I expected.’

“Then, what _do_ you do on Wednesdays after school?” dad asks while Mike is being unusually quiet, waiting anxiously for the part of the story that he has to tell.

“Look, um, that’s the thing, I…uh…”

“Just say it.” Mike hisses in a whisper-quiet tone.

“I’mgoingtoballetclasses.” I mumble as quickly as possible, already feeling a blush creep up my face.

“Excuse me, you’re going _where_?!”

“To, um, ballet classes. In that new ballet studio that has opened in Lincoln Street.”

“What?! Ballet? Why, how…Chester!” Dad is already starting to ask a million questions about what I was thinking doing this, but before he gets a chance to say anything further, mom chimes in.

“Shh, let him explain, Muto. It’s okay, Chester. We’re not mad.”

“But you will be.” I say, chewing the inside of my cheek.

“Doing ballet is expensive, isn’t it?”

I nod, swallowing because I know what’s going to come next. “It’s not _that_ expensive…”

“And I believe you’re paying for this with your allowance?”

“Yes. It’s why I took the job at the pizzeria, so I’d have a few extra bucks if I need to spend my allowance for something else.” I say quietly, not daring to look up from the glass of juice in front of me.

“Didn’t you need my or Donna’s signature for this, son?”

_God, no. He figured it out sooner than I had hoped for._

I bite my lips, glancing at Mike; the next part is story to tell. When I stay quiet, mom and dad both look at him, too. I feel really bad for him; he’s sitting there, cupping the back of his neck with one hand, and fidgeting with the fork in his other hand. He’s not looking at them, but meets my eyes for a second before he shifts his gaze to the table.

“I faked your signature.”

“You _what_?” dad asks in a louder voice than he probably intended to, while mom is speechless.

“I, I…I faked your…your signature, dad. I’m really sorry. It’s just – I’m ‘M. Shinoda’, too. It wasn’t really a lie.” Mike stutters, and I already know that dad won’t see it like that.

He rambles on and on about being sorry and that it doesn’t matter which ‘M. Shinoda’ has signed, being well aware what our parents think about lying. Dad holds his right index finger up for Mike to shut up, then leaves the table for a moment and quickly returns with a notepad and a ballpoint pen. “Sign.” he tells Mike, who is visibly confused.

“What? Like, my name or yours?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“Both. I want to see it.”

Mike first signs his own name, ‘M. Shinoda’ in his blocky comic-style handwriting, and then, right next to it, ‘M. Shinoda’ in dad’s elegant, adult ‘official-document-signing-lawyer’ handwriting. As usual, it’s a perfect replica of the original. Mike clicks the pen shut and shows dad the two signatures. After dad has signed his own signature, he and mom compare the signatures.

“How long have you been doing this, Michael?” mom asks, clearly angry now. Angry and shocked.

“Um, just once?” Mike says, giving them his best Shinoda grin and his puppy eyes, but it doesn’t work this time.

“Don’t you lie to your mother. This signature is perfect, Michael. You have clearly done this many times before.” Dad says, and I watch Mike swallow and scratch his neck anxiously.

“Um, well, to be honest…since we were 14.”

“Wait, you have been faking my signature for _two_ years? Why on earth would you do that?”

“I _really_ don’t want to explain that.” he says, looking at me now.

Dad closes his eyes for a moment and breathes in and out slowly while mom is shaking her head.

“It, um, it started when we needed a signature for school. You remember those notes the teachers always gave us whenever we had misbehaved? The ones you had to sign?” I start to explain.

They nod wordlessly, and dad is motioning for me to continue.

“One day, we pulled a stunt during the break that really crossed a line, and we were kind of scared to tell you, so we found another way to get your signature.”

“And do I want to know what kind of stunt that was?” dad asks, trying hard to be patient.

Mike and I look at each other, and then shake our heads.

“Boys, it’s been two years, we won’t be mad about it anymore. You can tell us.” mom says.

“It’s not important for the rest of the story.”

“Yeah, Mike is right. It’s not important anymore.”

Dad sighs, and for the first time in my life, I see him rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Alright then. Tell us more about faking my signature.”

“Well, I…I snuck into your office to find a document that had your signature on it, and when I found one, I practiced it over and over again until it was perfect. And since then, I signed every school document that we didn’t want you to know about. Nobody ever found out.”

Dad looks as if he’s gonna explode any second, and I think mom is seriously considering grounding us until we’re 18.

“This is not okay, Michael.” she says with a seriousness in her voice that I have heard only a few times in all the time I’ve lived here.

“I, I know.” he admits, avoiding eye contact.

“Donna is right, son. This isn’t okay and you know it. You both knew it was the wrong thing to do.”

“Yes, we know, dad.” I say. “But…we didn’t do it _that_ often…” I try to justify our actions, and then continue to explain myself. “I just couldn’t tell you about wanting to do ballet, you would have said no. You would have said that boys don’t do ballet and that I should find another hobby; something that’s more for boys. So I asked Mike to sign the document, and I’ve been going there every Wednesday for…about six or seven weeks before the summer holidays started. The classes take a break during the holidays, and that’s why I actually took a shift on Wednesdays at the pizza place. So you don’t wonder why I’m suddenly home on that day. I switched my Wednesday and Thursday shift, and – “

“Shh, slow down.” dad interrupts my rambling. “Of course you could have told us. I wouldn’t have liked it at first, but if you would have explained to me why you want to do that, I would have let you go there. I don’t ever want you to think you can’t talk to us.”

“But…but you’re mostly against everything I do! The nail polish, the hair, the – “

“Hey, we talked about all of this last week. I promised to be more open minded and you promised to be more honest, remember?” he asks with a smile, but I know what he’s really thinking.

“Well, yes, but…it wasn’t like this two months ago. I _had_ to keep it a secret!”

“It’s not good to do things behind our backs, Chester. And it’s not right to go along with it and sign official documents in my name, either, Michael. The conversation about this is not over yet, young man.” he reminds Mike, who had been glad that the attention has shifted to me again. “Are there any more surprises, or is that it for today?” dad asks patiently.

I really appreciate the effort he puts into being more patient and less strict with us. Mom is covering his hand with hers, because she knows what I’m about to tell them now will shock him even more. Shit, dad still has no idea that he’s the only one who doesn’t know about the big secret that isn’t much of a secret anymore. I can’t understand how he doesn’t already know…but I guess mom is just more observant than him. I hope she has prepared him a little.

“Um, as a matter of fact, there is…” I begin, unable to hide my nervousness. “I…I met someone at ballet. Someone I really like. Fuck, I don’t know how to say this…” I ramble until Mike intentionally steps on my foot under the table.

Okay, now it’s time for the truth, but because I’m so anxious, my stupid fucking psycho brain decides to make my mouth let out all the words at once. “AtballetImetthisguy,and,um,he’smyboyfriend.”

“Did you just say ‘boyfriend’?!” dad asks, looking at me as if I had just confessed a murder.

I guess he needs a more detailed explanation…

“Yes. I…I said, um, boy…friend. I’m bi, dad.”

_It’s out. The truth is finally out there, and I have never felt this relieved in my life. It seems to me that all this weight I was carrying fell off my shoulders._

“Fucking finally…” Mike whispers next to me as he smiles at me, pats my shoulder and pours me another glass of orange juice.

Mom is getting up from the table and comes over to give me one of those mom-hugs that only she can give.

“I’m so proud of you, pumpkin. See, you had no reason to be afraid, it’s okay.”

I glance at dad, who hasn’t said anything yet. _I hope he’s not too angry with me…_

xxxxx

All eyes were on Muto, who contemplated what to say. He hadn’t expected any of this, it had taken him by total surprise. He blinked a few times, thinking all those revelations that had come out today.

_My son being gay? No, not gay. Bi. Bisexual. But he has a boyfriend, for god’s sakes! A boyfriend, not a girlfriend! Oh my god. He can’t be bisexual. He can’t! It’s not right for a boy to be in love with another boy. It’s just not right. And ballet? What was he thinking?! Ballet is for girls, and for girls only. I should punish him. I should forbid him to go there. Forbid him to see this boy. I always wondered why he didn’t find another girlfriend after Talinda; she was such a nice girl._

_Now I have the answer. What do I do? Is there anything I can do? How can he be attracted to other boys after what happened to him as a child? I can’t understand it. He and Michael have been so rebellious in these past months, so maybe this is just a phase? I hope it is. It was so easy to deal with misbehavior when they were younger. Make them stand in the corner if they needed to think about what they did wrong, wash their mouths out with soap when they were disrespectful, even though I know from firsthand experience how unpleasant that is, and spanking them once in a while when they really went too far. Not too hard to hurt but hard enough for them to learn their lesson. It’s the way I grew up, and I thought it was the right thing to do._

_Now they don’t listen when I scold them, and standing in the corner doesn’t work anymore, either. They are both developing an ego the size of Texas, especially Chester. This is not necessarily a bad thing; I want them to be confident. I want them to be able to think on their own and make their own decisions. I don’t want Chester to be bisexual, though. It’s just not right._

_…But isn’t that the same thing that my parents said when I introduced Donna to them all those years ago? They said she wasn’t traditional enough. They said it wasn’t right for me to be in love with someone who doesn’t share my culture, and that she wasn’t the right woman for me, anyway. So who am I to tell my son whom to love? Just because I think it’s wrong for a man to love another man? Because I think it’s not traditional? Because I’ve always had difficulties with accepting that people are different?_

_Donna has been telling me for years to be more open-minded. Maybe I just need to get over myself and let Chester explain himself without interruptions. That’s what I always preach my sons; let people speak, shut your mouth and listen. Maybe I should listen to my own advice for once? I should say something._

_Chester is going to think I hate him if I don’t tell him I’m okay with it. I don’t want him to think that I don’t approve of him and his choices. That’s one of his biggest fears; Donna and me not accepting him. It might not always seem like it, because I’m such a ‘hard ass’, like Chester would say, but I do accept him. And I accept and love Chester and Michael equally. They’re the same to me…I will talk to Chester and let him know that I do not hate him for being in love with a boy. How could I? I’d never hate my children. I might be angry with them sometimes, but there’s nothing we can’t talk about. Our boys are getting older, they’re growing up. They can make their own choices and I should support them._

_…But I should have known earlier. I should have seen it. Should have realized something was wrong when he started painting his nails…was that a sign? I really have too many prejudices, but I am also so conflicted about this whole thing. And Donna knew about it, didn’t she? Maybe that’s what she meant when she told me to be more open to different lifestyles…why do women always have to be so complicated? Why can they never say what they mean? And if she knew, why hasn’t she told me about Chester being bisexual? Well, I guess she thought it wasn’t her place to tell me about his secret._

xxxxx

“Muto? Darling? You want to say anything to that?” Donna asked, resting one hand on Chester’s shoulder as she spoke to her husband, who looked as if he were deep in thought about a very complicated math problem.

She thought that coming to terms with his son having a boyfriend surely was like an almost unsolvable math problem for him, and she also had a pretty good idea what was going on in Chester’s mind right now. Donna knew about those teenage trainwreck emotions both of her sons were going through, and it was always Chester who was the most sensitive. He could go from an absolute high to a devastating low in just a few minutes, although the therapy seemed to help with his explosive temper and occasional mood swings. Sometimes, it was still unpredictable how he’d react to things, but by now she was prepared to deal with any situation.

She squeezed Chester’s shoulder and sat back down, immediately noticing that Chester’s eyes that so often sparkled with mischief and cheekiness were now dark, worried, staring into space as he anxiously waited for his father to say something.

xxxxx

**Thanks for reading!**


	28. Chapter 28

It’s been a week since my coming out, and I know that dad is still trying to come to terms with it. I’m glad that mom is supporting me in my choices, and she’s even giving advice that I have to admit I don’t always want. When Mike’s and my grounding is over, I’ll come out to our friends, too, if Dave agrees. We’ve talked on the phone almost every day in the past week, and I’m so glad that I don’t have to hide whom I’m calling anymore. We’ve even met twice last week, secretly of course, but because we can only meet in public places like the youth center, we still haven’t had the opportunity to go further than kissing and a bit of touching. I really want more, and I know that he does, too.

Yes, we could meet at his parent’s house while his dad is at work and his mom is helping out in the soup kitchen of their church, but Dave and I are both a little scared of doing that; I don’t really know why. Gotta ask my therapist about that… Mike and Anna met at our parents’ house while they were at work and I was out with Dave, and I’m glad as hell that I wasn’t at home during that time. Anna has to be home before her mom comes home, as well, so they have only time to meet in the mornings, just like Dave and I.

I’m currently sitting at the table in the dining room, alone at about 5 in the morning, as I think about last week, when I came out to mom and dad. The reason why I’m here at this hour instead of sleeping in my cozy bed is that I’ve been laying in bed, wondering if dad will ever come around and really understand that this is not just a phase, that I’m not doing this to rebel against him, and that I’m not gonna change my mind and suddenly don’t like boys anymore. I was thinking and thinking and overthinking since 4 AM until I eventually decided to get up. Then I got dressed in thin dark grey pajama bottoms, a black tank top and my favorite socks, and went downstairs as quietly as I could. Now I’m sitting here, sipping on a glass of orange juice and staring out of the glass door that leads to the patio.

Jason the dog has been sleeping at the foot of my bed the whole week, I guess because he could sense that something was bothering me. He’s still upstairs in my room now, probably drooling onto my blanket like he always does. I remember last week, when I came out and Mike and mom were so happy for me, whilst dad was taking a hell of a lot of time to think about his reply.

xxxxx

_“Are you sure?”_ he had eventually asked.

_“W-what? What do you mean?”_

_“Are you sure you’re really…bi?” “Um, yes. Pretty sure.” Silence. More silence._

_“Okay.”_

_“I…what? Are you saying it’s okay that I have a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend? It’s okay that I secretly did ballet for months and that I did all of those things behind your back?”_

_I can see that dad is mentally wrestling with himself to find an answer. “Doing things behind Donna’s and my back is never okay, you two know that.” he begins before giving Mike a stern look. “And you and me will have a serious discussion about the signatures, young man. But, Chester…I am fine with you having a boyfriend. Also with doing ballet. I have to admit that it really surprised me, and I’ll need some time to think about this.”_

_“Why the fuck would you need time to think about it? You’re either fine with me being bi or not – “_

_“Language.”_

_“Oh, god, who cares about the cursing right now…” I say, rolling my eyes._

_He’s quiet for a few seconds, but then he says:_

_“Alright. But you can’t blame me for needing time to think. Plus…am I seriously the only one in this house who didn’t know about this?”_

_“Kinda, yeah.” Mike mutters under his breath. “I’ve known for like a year.” he admits, and we smirk at each other, remembering that disaster with the magazines that lead to me coming out to him. He has bought himself new magazines of naked girls by now, but he’s hiding them better than before. “And I know Dave, too. He’s really nice, dad.” Mike continues, and in return I sign ‘thank you’ in his direction. I’m so grateful that he’s standing up for me._

_“Listen, honey. I was suspecting it for months, but I didn’t say anything about my suspicions to you because it was Chester’s secret to tell.” Mom says, holding dad’s hand on the table._

_I watch as dad nods silently, and I can’t help that feeling of anger bubbling up inside of me. He’s not really okay with it, I just know._

_“I want you to know that it’s okay to be bi, and that I don’t judge you for it.” Dad says, but I know what he really thinks._

_I look at him for a moment, seeing that he doesn’t really mean what he says, and that he obviously just says what he thinks would be right in this situation. He’ll never understand me. Never._

_“I don’t believe you.” I burst out._

_“Excuse me?”_

_“I said what I meant. I don’t believe you. I knew it was a mistake to tell you, and I knew you wouldn’t understand.”_

_“That’s not true, Chester.” Dad says in the calmest voice he can manage._

_“Yes, it is!” I disagree._

_“Fine. You want the truth? To be honest, I’m having my difficulties with it, which is why, as I said, I need time to think. I just want to know if you’re doing this only to rebel against us, and if this is just a temporary phase that - “  
_

_"Muto, that’s enough.” Mom chimes in._

_“Just a phase that goes away? Why would you ask me that? No, it’s not just a phase, and it will not go away, even if you want it to. I should have known you’re a homophobic as – “_

_“Hey, I am_ not _homophobic, but – “_

_“People who say that always are. You know what? Leave me the fuck alone, I don’t need your approval!” I shout as I get up from my chair and go upstairs, ignoring mom and dad telling me to sit back down._

_About fifteen minutes later, Mike knocks on my door. I can tell it’s him, because dad would knock more forcefully, and mom would knock more tentatively._

_“Chaz, let me in!” he says when I don’t answer._

_“Get the fuck out!”_

_“I’m not even in, you dork!”_

_“Then go away and leave me alone!”_

_Mike does come in, though, ignoring my complaints. He finds me sitting on the floor with my back to the bed, petting my – our - dog. I look up at him, wiping a few tears away and trying to hide the fact that I’ve been crying like a girl after the conversation downstairs. He sits down next to me, joining in on the dog-petting without saying a word, and after a while, I actually feel better._

_“So, um, how are you doing?” he asks me, but I only shrug my shoulders._

_“Better now, I guess…” I eventually answer, not looking up from the dog in my lap._

_“What took you so long, anyway?”_

_Now I do look up, because we both know that whenever one of us is feeling down, the other comes to talk about it. That’s what we do. We talk about stuff._

_“I, um… dad scolded me about faking his signature. It kinda took a while.” he admits, grinning a bit sheepishly._

_“You okay?” I ask._

_“Yeah…it was just the usual…he lectured me about lying and how using someone else’s signature is a crime and all that law crap, and when I talked back he was like ‘don’t you use this tone with me, young man’… well, you know what I mean.”_

_I nod empathetically as he proceeds to tell me everything that happened downstairs while I was in my room, but I’ve got the feeling that he came in here with something else on his mind._

_“Mike…what do you really want here?” I ask him, because I know that he didn’t just come in here to talk and to pet Jason._

_“Give me your diary.”_

_“I’d rather sell our dog than give you my diary.” I reply drily._

_In the past, Mike was the only person who was allowed to look into the small leather bound book that I keep in the drawer of my bedside table, but by now it holds so many private thoughts and secrets that I’d never show it to anyone._

_“Not to read it, silly. I know you write down song lyrics in there, and I also know that you sing to yourself to calm down, and, um…to be honest, when I hear you sing through the wall, it helps me, too.”_

_“What are you trying to say?” I ask with a puzzled expression on my face._

_“Give me your damn diary and I’ll show you.”_

_While I reluctantly rummage through the drawer to find my diary, we hear mom and dad fight downstairs. They always make an effort to not let us hear them argue, but this time we do. Not that they fight often, no, it’s actually the contrary. Now, however, we hear mom yell words like ‘insensitive’, ‘stupid’, and ‘you better apologize’, while dad yells back that he didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I hand Mike my diary, carefully keeping an eye on him as he flips through the pages to find whatever he’s looking for._

_He tries hard not to laugh at the pages that are covered with drawings of hearts that have Dave’s name in it, and I appreciate that he doesn’t say anything about them. Finally, he finds a few pages where I’ve written down an entire song, and to my surprise, he awkwardly clears his throat as if he’s going to sing._

_“Mike, what are you doing?”_

_“I’m going to sing.”_

_“You can’t sing.” I state, grinning at him._

_“Who cares? Now shut up, and don’t laugh.”_

_He chooses a song that he has surely heard me sing several times lately. I needed months to put the right lyrics together and think about a melody, and when I was finally satisfied with the way the song turned out, I sang it to myself every night in the past two weeks. Mike starts singing, or rather doing something that almost sounds like rapping, and I lose my shit after five seconds, laughing at my brother’s attempts to sing like me._

_Even though I initially planned on pouting for the rest of the day, I do cheer up as we play around with the song, taking turns with the lyrics until we’ve found the parts that sound better with rapping and the parts that are better when they’re being sung._

When this began,

I had nothing to say

And I'd get lost in the nothingness inside of me

(I was confused)

And I let it all out to find that I'm not the only person with these things in mind

(inside of me)

But all the vacancy the words revealed

Is the only real thing that I got left to feel

(nothing to lose)

Just stuck, hollow and alone

And the fault is my own,

And the fault is my own

I want to heal, I want to feel,

What I thought was never real

I want to let go of the pain I felt so long

(erase all the pain 'til it's gone)

I want to heal, I want to feel

Like I'm close to something real

I want to find something

I've wanted all along

Somewhere I belong

_When we’re halfway through the song for the zillionth time, there’s a knock on the door. Fuck, it’s mom. I’m not ready to talk about my feelings._

xxxxx

During the following few days, I’ve had a lot of conversations with mom; telling her all about Dave and doing ballet, and how I didn’t tell anyone about the performance our ballet studio had before the summer holidays; what it felt like to dance in front of all those other people and that Dr. Baker told me that exercise helps with mental illness because of the serotonin or whatever the hell it’s called. Mom said I shouldn’t worry too much about ever being diagnosed with a mental illness like depression, but I think she’s just trying to avoid thinking about it. I know she and dad have talked to my therapist about all this, and deep down I fear that my demons will someday take over, even though right now, the therapy seems to help keep them away most of the time. I haven’t said a word about this to mom because I don’t want her to worry.

I’ve avoided talking to dad, though. He’s made a lot of attempts to talk and apologize, but I told him I don’t want to talk to him. No matter what he has to say, I won’t listen, and I won’t talk. I know it’s childish, but I don’t care. Last Monday during therapy, I told Dr. Baker about coming out to my parents and how it went. I’d never admit it to my parents, but I’m glad they made me go to therapy. She did tell me to talk to dad and try to understand his point of view, but I haven’t taken that advice yet.

A few days ago, I was alone with mom and Mike one afternoon before dad came home, and again, she made us help her cook dinner. I seriously can’t wait for the grounding to be over. At least we only have one more month to go… Anyway, we chopped vegetables in the kitchen while she was preparing the homemade noodle dough, and out of nowhere, the conversation turned into one of her talks about relationship advice. Mike and I hate those talks because, like every other teenager on this planet, we find conversations about sex education with parents to be highly embarrassing.

xxxxx

_“Chester, pumpkin, I was wondering…that boyfriend of yours, David…”_

_“Mom, please, everyone calls him Dave.” I sigh, sharing a quick look with Mike. We both know where this is going._

_“Yes. The both of you…you do know that you’ll need protection when you’re being intimate, right?”_

_“Oh, god, we’re not fucking yet.” I whisper to myself, realizing too late that this was the wrong choice of words, while Mike is failing to focus on slicing the tomatoes as he bursts into laughter._

_He’s had a similar conversation a few months ago when mom accidently overheard him telling me that he finally slept with Anna for the first time. To his misfortune, mom then educated him on the importance of using condoms, and all in all, I think he was glad when the conversation was over._

_“That word is rude and vulgar, and it’s not an appropriate term to describe sex.”_

_“Jeez, do we really have to talk about this?”_

_“_ _Yes, we do, young man. I know it makes you uncomfortable, but it’s important to be educated on this topic. So, as I was saying, it’s very important to use protection, because – “_

_“Why? He and I can’t get pregnant.” I laugh. “Oh, come on, I was just joking!” I add when I see the way she looks at me._

_“You might not be able to get pregnant, but STDs are not a joke, pumpkin.”_

_“I know, I know…do you have to turn everything into a fucking lecture?!” I ask, slightly blushing._ _“And could you please stop calling me pumpkin? I’m not a kid anymore.”_

_“I’ll stop calling you that when you find the ability to express yourself without using the word ‘fuck’.” she replies, and I’m glaring daggers at Mike for laughing at me._

_“Fine…” I grumble, but before I can say anything further, mom asks me how I know about STDs and all this._

_“I guess you don’t learn any of this at school, so I’m wondering where else you get information.”_

_I swallow before I answer; I have to find a way to tell her the truth without revealing that I’ve been sneaking out lately. “Um, well…I’ve told you about this cool youth center that Dave and I go to, right?”_

_“Right.”_

_“A few weeks ago, before we got grounded, there was this guy from a health organization who spoke to us about STDs, getting tested, using condoms, and so on, and uh, he handed out a piece of paper with information and pretty nasty pictures of what can happen when one catches an STD, so…I think I know enough about this topic, mom.”_

What the fuck am I telling her? ‘A few weeks ago’?! This was yesterday! I’ve got no reason to tell her that part, though. I’m just glad that every Tuesday and Friday at 11 AM, and then again at 3 PM, there are people from health organizations coming to our youth center. They talk to us about things that are important to know, and they answer all our questions that we would never want to ask our parents, much less ask our teachers at school. So every Tuesday and Friday, the youth center is very well attended, because who is not interested in this? Plus, those courses are free, and everyone can just come in and listen. Dave and I have been there four times already, and we’ve learned a lot. I’m so much more attentive there than I am at school…Of course, we can only visit the early courses instead of the ones in the afternoon, because we can’t let our parents know that we’re sneaking out. Dave said that his parents would freak out if they knew that he’s getting educated on ‘the devil’s work’, meaning everything related to homosexuality and sex in general. I hope he that someday he can come out to them and be proud of himself.

_“Okay, then. I see that you’re well educated.” Mom says, smiling at me. “Also, I’m glad you have a place where people teach you about this.”_

_“Hmhm.” I agree, pretending to be interested in slicing the vegetables._

_“You do know that you can talk to me or Muto, as well? Don’t you?”_

_“Well, yeah, but…I really don’t want to.”_

_“I understand. But in case you do have a question, I’m here. That goes for you, too, pumpkin.” she reminds us, looking at Mike now._

_Mike has given up on telling her to stop calling us by those childish nicknames and just accepts it by now, and until this moment, he has successfully avoided being the center of attention in this conversation, so he just nods and hopes he won’t be asked another question._

_“We know, mom. Thanks.” I answer for both of us, and when we’re finally done with helping in the kitchen, we escape to the garden._

xxxxx

I’m still sitting here alone in the dining room, thinking and sipping on my juice. I look up at the clock on the wall; it’s now 6 AM. Fuck, I’ve been here for two hours…but I can’t sleep, so what else am I supposed to do? I’m thinking back to yesterday, when mom told me that I should talk to dad and hear him out. She said I should stop being so stubborn and try to have an adult conversation with him. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’m just a terrible person…

Mom and dad are always so patient with Mike and me. Okay, especially with me, although I’m such a fucking screw-up who’s always so defensive about his own damn opinion…I talked about that in therapy, and I do feel bad about it, but on the other hand I honestly think that accusing me of being bi as part of a ‘phase that goes away’ is a terrible thing to do. Dad didn’t exactly say it like that, but I know he thought it. Ugh, Mike is so much more well-behaved than me. I bet I’m just a bad influence that turns him into this sassy, disrespectful brat that he is once in a while.

Maybe if I had lived here for a longer period of time, I’d be more like Mike. Okay, it’s been almost five years, but sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had lived here all my life. Or what would have happened if my real mom would still be alive and I would have stayed with her? If she had never taken drugs? If she had never met Steven? If I had never been abused as a kid? If I had had a normal childhood like everybody else? Would I be less of a problem child? Would I be less difficult? I remember those books about parenting advice and dealing with difficult children that mom and dad used to read in the beginning. They didn’t want Mike and me to know that they had a bit of trouble dealing with me, but we found out about those books anyway.

Suddenly, I realize that there are a few tears running down my face. Damn, I hate being so emotional, but I can’t help myself. My feet are resting on the table as I lean against the back rest of the chair, and I drum my fingers against the glass I’m holding. It’s half empty now, and I’m starting to get hungry. We usually have breakfast together, so I’ll wait until everyone’s awake. Taking another sip from my juice, I manage to spill some of it on my t-shirt, and I curse under my breath. Fuck, I’m way too distracted.

“Chester? What are you doing here so early in the morning?” I hear dad’s voice behind me.

Crap. I don’t wanna talk to him.

“Thinking.” I eventually answer, not turning around to look at him, but proceeding to stare out into the garden. He walks around the table to sit down with me, and immediately I put my feet down and instead sit just like he does.

“About?”

“Stuff.” I say quietly.

“Are you ever going to talk to me again?” he asks nonchalantly as he gets up and turns on the coffee machine.

“We _are_ talking.”

“You know what I mean.”

Of course I know what he means. I don’t say anything in return as I listen to the sounds the coffee machine makes and as I inhale the smell of my favorite beverage. I’m not gonna get a cup anyway, so I focus on my orange juice. I shouldn’t have gotten out of bed this early; I know that dad sometimes wakes up early to drink his first cup of coffee in peace in the morning. Why didn’t I think of that?! This whole situation reminds me of that morning when he found out about my tattoos, and that it turned out well in the end. Maybe if I just explain everything to him, then this will turn out well, too?

xxxxx

Muto stood at the coffee machine, watching his son sit at the table, grumpy and pouting, clearly deep in thought about the events of the previous week. He had made many attempts to talk to Chester and have a calm conversation, but all he got in return was ‘I don’t want to talk to you’, ‘you don’t understand me’, and ‘you never listen to me’. However, now was the time to talk, and as Muto prepared breakfast for himself and Chester, knowing that his wife and Michael would only wake up in a couple of hours, he asked himself again how he could have missed the obvious signs of Chester not being like other boys.

He let his eyes wander over the meticulously painted nails, and the bright pink socks with black skulls. _Where did he even buy those?_ And then there was this tank top that didn’t just show off the tattoos on his back, but also that Chester had indeed gained a bit of muscle and gotten in shape. _It has to come from the ballet. Why, god, why does it have to be ballet? Can’t he do something that is…less feminine? Something like…soccer. Baseball. Swimming. ANYTHING. I talked about all of this with Donna, who said she couldn’t understand why I am against him doing this._

But it wasn’t that Muto was ‘against’ Chester doing ballet, or ‘against’ having a son that was not straight, it was just that he couldn’t understand why. During the course of the past week, Muto had talked to his wife about last weekend’s revelations, and she kept telling him to try and get Chester to talk to him, because she couldn’t bear seeing both of them so stubborn. He had tried and tried, and he had decided that this wonderful sunny morning was just the perfect time for another try.

Also, he knew that he might get through to Chester when he caught him alone, and not in the company of Michael. Those two together were like a wall of self-defense that didn’t let any kind of attack get to them; a fact that Muto usually was proud of. Currently though, Michael and Chester had turned against their father, because just like Chester, Mike was under the impression that Muto was a ‘homophobic asshole’, like they had told him a few days ago. Gone were all the promises of not swearing so much anymore, now it was actually the opposite.

Another reason why Mike was angry at Muto right now was that he was pouting over not receiving his allowance, because it was being used for paying the cleaning bill for the police car he had thrown up in. Both of his sons were pretty hostile towards their dad right now, and Muto needed to change that.

_I am not homophobic. I am NOT. I don’t have anything against gays. But isn’t it normal for a parent to question why their son has a boyfriend? Isn’t it normal to need some time to think about this?_

In total silence, Muto waited for the coffee to be done, and Chester drank his juice, both of them stubbornly waiting for the other to say something. The past week had been kind of tense, and making conversation had been a bit strained, and the fact that neither Chester nor Muto wanted to change their opinion didn’t help.

_I knew it would be difficult to come out to dad, but why does he have to be such a dick about it?_ Chester thought.

Then, Muto placed two bowls of milk and cereal on the table, one in front of Chester, and one in front of his own usual place at the table. Muto’s breakfast was accompanied by a cup of hot, steaming coffee, which made Chester extremely jealous. So far, he’d had coffee only once, during his secret café date with Dave, and the smell of his father’s morning coffee made him want to have one, as well. Surprisingly, a second cup was placed on the table right then, this time directly next to Chester’s cereal bowl.

“For you.” Muto said, and finally, Chester convinced himself to make eye contact, if only for a second to appreciate the coffee. “You don’t want to talk to me, do you?”

“No, not really.” Chester grumbled.

“Then I’ll talk. You listen.”

“Yeah, whatever. And you can’t bribe me with this coffee, by the way.” he said defiantly, eyeing the coffee in front of him and wrapping both of his hands around the warm mug.

“This is not a bribe. I know how bad you want to try coffee, so here it is. I can’t promise you’ll get one every morning, but you’re getting one now. So drink, it’s not poisoned.” Muto said with a smile as he raised his own coffee mug to his mouth.

Against his will, Chester had to smile, and the frown on his face disappeared. Now for the first time, he drank coffee at home, well aware that he couldn’t let it show that he already knew what it tasted like. There was just a tiny hint of milk in his coffee, but it still tasted amazing. Muto was surprised by his son’s reaction to the coffee, he had expected him to make a face at the slightly bitter taste, or to complain about the lack of sugar, but none of that happened, and somehow, he could guess why.

“Not your first time, hu?”

After a brief, quiet pause in which Muto knew Chester was pondering whether he should lie or not, he shook his head, chewing on his bottom lip.

“No.”

“It’s okay, I won’t ask.”

“Thanks.”

_I have to be more easygoing with him and Michael. They’re almost adults, of course they have secrets, and of course Donna and I don’t have to know everything. I want to know, but I won’t ask, anyway._

“So, what I wanted to talk to you about are obviously the things you told us last weekend. I understand that you don’t want to talk to me about any of this, but I need us to have an adult conversation, okay?”

“’Kay.” Chester said, eating his cereal in order to avoid having to speak much. First, he wanted to hear what his father had to say.

“Good. I thought a lot about this, and I want you to know that I am really okay with you having a, a…a boyfriend. I admit that this is not what I had expected, but I do not have any problems with this. I’m aware that my reaction last week was not the best. Far from the best, to be honest. I’m sorry.”

Chester looked at his father in disbelief, he hadn’t expected an apology. “Dad, you…you don’t have to apologize.”

“I do, Chester. I always make you and Michael apologize when you’ve made a mistake, so I think that this time, it’s my turn to say sorry.”

“Thanks.” he said honestly, making eye contact again.

“I was just surprised when you told me; I never saw this coming. And, to be honest, it is kind of confusing for me, you know, given what happened in…in your childhood.”

“And you think it’s not confusing for _me_?!” Chester replied angrily. “You think I didn’t hate myself when I first realized I was different? When I realized I wasn’t interested in girls anymore?”

“But I thought you said you were _bi_ sexual? That means both girls _and_ boys.”

“Well, y-yes, but…that’s not the point right now. The point is that…that…“

“That you like boys a little bit more?”

“Yes. I…I fell in love with a boy and I won’t change my mind.”

“That’s fine. You can be in love with whomever you want.”

“I know.” Chester snapped, glaring at the little cereal that was left in his bowl.

“But can’t you understand that I have a few questions about this?”

“No. No, I can’t understand that. What is so hard to understand?!”

“A lot, for me. I talked about this to your mom, as you can imagine, but I have to admit that I still have some, how do I say this…difficulties with it.”

“I knew it. I knew that you – “

“Shh, that’s not what I said. Just hear me out, will you?”

“Fine.” Chester replied, hiding behind the big coffee mug and wondering why he didn’t just stay in bed this morning.

“Alright. I…I ask myself why you do all this, and why I haven’t noticed sooner that something was going on with you.”

“Don’t you mean that ‘something was wrong with me’? Is that what you wanna say?!”

“No, that is most definitely _not_ what I want to say. Because there’s nothing wrong with you. I’m just asking you why…why…” Muto began, trying to find the right words.

“Are you seriously just asking me why I’m bi?”

“No, but… Listen, Chester. I’m trying to make this right, okay? I’m really trying here. I know that the previous week has been kind of awkward, but I want to make it better this week.”

There was a short pause in which Chester just glared at his father, struggling to get a handle on his temper that was, once again, ready to explode. Two minutes later, he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.

“I don’t know why, okay? It just happened. I already told all of this to mom, and I’m sure that she has told you about it, but…when I first noticed that I was, um, interested in boys, I…I tried to just ignore it. I hated myself and I thought it was disgusting and wrong, just like you – “

“I do not think that it’s disgusting and wrong.”

“Whatever. And…and then other people started to notice it, too, but I told them that it wasn’t true. It was the reason why Talinda broke up with me, you know? I think she knew before I did. She said she knew that I was…um, gay, which I am not, by the way, and…and that she thought I didn’t love her anymore. So…I eventually told my therapist about it, and I felt so much better after that. Then, a few weeks later, I came out to Mike, and he kept my secret all this time. He always keeps my secrets.”

“I know. I like that you two get along so well.”

“Me, too. And, another thing I wanted to say was…I think it was kinda unfair to make Mike take all the blame for that thing with the signatures. When we came up with that idea, I thought it was the answer to all our problems at school. I thought it was the coolest thing ever, and I encouraged him to do it, but, um, I know it was wrong.”

“It’s okay now. I know why you did it and that you thought you had your reasons to fake my signature. I’m glad that you understand that you and Michael made a mistake by doing that. Now listen closely, okay? I’m going to tell you something that I already told Michael last week. Once, a long time ago when I was about 12 years old, I did the same thing you two did. I faked my father’s signature because I was too scared to tell him the truth about something, but it was a terrible fake, and he found out about it, so he took the wooden ruler that I knew all too well, and he slapped my fingers and my palms with it ten times, on both hands. I never did such a thing again, but it was not because of respect, but because of fear.”

“I…I know. Mike told me what you said to him last week.”

“Is there anything that you and he don’t talk about?” Muto asked, smiling to himself as he took another sip from his coffee.

“No, we tell each other pretty much everything, sooner or later.”

“I’m glad to hear that, son. So, what do you think is it that I want you to learn from this story?”

“That we were stupid brats?”

“Well, yes. That, too. But the main lesson is that whatever you do, you don’t have to be afraid to tell me or Donna about it. I don’t want you to be scared. I want you to know that I respect you, and you respect me, clear?”

“Clear.” Chester said in a quiet voice, again focusing on his breakfast and fidgeting with the spoon in his left hand.

“Good. So, I, I have another question.”

“Okay…”

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but…why did it have to be ballet? Did you choose it to do something that goes against my, admittedly, sometimes a little old fashioned values? Like the nail polish?”

“Look, if you don’t like it, you can just say it. And ‘sometimes a little’?! You’re the definition of old fashioned!”

“Why are you always so hostile, Chester? And keep your voice down.” Muto burst out, mentally scolding himself a second later. He didn’t want to fight, especially not at 6:30 in the morning.

“I am not ‘hostile’!”

“Sometimes you are.”

“Who cares?! And not everything I do is a way to rebel against you, okay? I paint my nails because I think it looks cool. I do ballet because I like dancing, and because it’s fun. And you’ll have to get used to me having a boyfriend, because I sure as hell won’t have a girlfriend anytime soon. Fine, one of the reasons for painting my nails is that I know you don’t like it, but that’s it. Why is it so much easier to talk to mom about these things? She’s always cool about everything, and you act like it’s the end of the world.”

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do! And yes, I’m bi, but what is so bad about that? Dr. Baker said that it’s not abnormal, and that I have no reason to hate myself for being like this. And she also said that it’s not a bad thing for a boy to do ballet, and that exercise helps with my fucked up brain. Fine, she didn’t exactly say fucked up, but that’s what she meant.”

_It’s funny how he refused to talk to her four years ago, much less taking any advice from her, and now every word that woman says is like the ultimate wisdom._ Muto thought. _I’m glad he accepted that going to therapy is for his own good._

“But I hated myself for so long.” Chester continued, talking himself into a rage. “And I thought that something was wrong with me; I thought I was sick, and I felt like I couldn’t talk to anyone about it.”

“I’m sorry you felt that way.”

“And…and I asked myself how I could be gay or bi after what _he_ had done to me. You’re not the only one asking yourself that question, you know? How can I be like that after being raped in the ass when I was a kid?”

“Jesus, Chester, do you always have to be so blunt about it? There are other ways to say it.”

“I don’t care! It is what it is, and I’ll say it like that.”

Muto didn’t know what to say to that, so he just sighed and looked out of the glass door. It was always painful for him to think about what Chester had experienced before they had adopted him, so he preferred not to think about it at all, but in situations like this, when the subject did come up, it hurt him even more that Chester spoke about what had happened so honestly; there was nothing to sugarcoat, it had been brutal and disgusting, and even though Muto wanted his son to use other words to describe it, he tried to understand that Chester’s ‘trainwreck emotions’, as Donna called them, didn’t allow him to find more discreet words.

“Would it be even worse for you if I were really gay?” Chester asked out of the blue, swirling his spoon around in the almost empty bowl. All of the cereal was gone, and now there was only milk left.

“No. Nothing about this is bad, son. I want you to know that I’ll get used to all of this, and that I am proud of you.”

“Thanks.” Chester whispered, taking a few huge gulps from his coffee. “Earlier when you asked me why I chose ballet, um…well, the answer is that I, I chose it because I thought it would be fun to do something I had never done before. You know that I’m not that great at P.E. at school, but ballet is something completely different. The teacher at the studio says that I have real talent, and she doesn’t say that about anyone except of this one girl and me. Also, it really helps with my anxiety; I feel better lately, most of the times. I’m sorry if you think it’s too girly, but I really love doing this, dad.” he explained, struggling to look his father in the eyes.

“How much does it cost you every month?”

“25 bucks.”

“I’ll pay for it, so you can spend your allowance and the money you earn yourself for something else, or just save the money.”

“Do, do you really mean that? You don’t have to pay for ballet, I’ve been doing that on my own for the last few months.”

“Yes, I mean it. Just please promise me you won’t get another tattoo with that money before your 18th birthday. No tattoos and no piercings, promise?”

_Dammit, I knew he’d get back to the tattoo at some point…_

“Yes, I promise.” Chester said, glad that the conversation turned out that well in the end. “And, um, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I got used to the tattoos and to the crazy hair. I got used to that weird music you listen to – “

“It’s called punk rock.” Chester interrupted, drinking the rest of his coffee to hide his smile.

“Yes, that. I also got used to the black nails, more or less, and I will get used to you doing ballet and having a boyfriend.”

“For real?”

“Yes. I’ll give my best. And…about your, um, boyfriend, David…”

“Yes? And he’s called Dave, not David.” Chester replied, nervously rubbing his left big toe against the inside of his right foot under the table. The coffee was gone, and the cereal as well. The only option to distract himself from the conversation was drinking the milk that had gotten cold by now.

“Why don’t you bring him over one of these days?”

In one quick motion, Chester spit the milk back into the bowl, utterly shocked by Muto’s suggestion. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and set the bowl back onto the table, a hot blush creeping up his face. Surprisingly, Muto didn’t scold Chester for his lack of table manners, and instead just grinned at him before he continued.

“You know that you can’t go out, but you and Michael can have friends come over again. Anna will be here tomorrow for dinner, so, why don’t you give him a call and tell him that we want to meet him?”

“’We’ as in like, you and mom?”

“Yes.” Muto watched as his son’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, and he just couldn’t help himself anymore; he got up and walked around the table, pulling Chester into the hug he should have already given him last weekend. He knew that Chester had been disappointed with him after that complete reaction fail last Saturday, but he would do anything to show him that he accepted him. “How else can I help you? What do you want?” Muto asked.

“I, I, I want to stop feeling ashamed of not being straight. I want to be able to be proud of myself for who I am.” Chester admitted hesitantly, not resisting Muto’s embrace anymore. “You _can_ be proud of yourself. I’m proud of you, and Donna is, too.” Muto said, pressing a quick kiss onto the side of his son’s head.

“Are we cool again?”

“Of course we are, son.”

xxxxx

**Thanks for reading. Lyrics are ‘Somewhere I belong’ by LP.**


	29. Chapter 29

It’s been a week since dad and I talked it all out, and I think the atmosphere at home has been become more relaxed since then. Mom and Mike were very relieved to see us sitting at the breakfast table together and having a normal conversation for a change. I have actually called Dave and explained the whole situation to him, and then I told him that he’s invited to dinner. I have no clue what he has told his parents about tonight, but finally, the day is here. Dave’s coming over to meet mom and dad. Oh. My. God. There’s so much that can go wrong! What if he doesn’t like them? Or they don’t like him? I have a whole list of things that could go wrong…

Now it’s 7:30 PM, and I’m getting a little anxious. I asked mom to cook something that is not Japanese, so he doesn’t embarrass himself with the chopsticks, and I asked dad not to interrogate him about his grades at school. I remember the first time Talinda came over…she only survived the evening because she has equally strict parents when it comes to school; plus, she always had pretty decent grades in most of the subjects, and she was really polite when she talked to my parents, which was why she immediately made a good first impression.

It was a bit different when Anna came over for the first time; she almost didn’t want to come back because she was so intimidated by mom’s and dad’s questioning. Mike had to convince her that our parents aren’t always like this, and that they are actually nice people. I guess I didn’t make it easy for her, either, after I was single again and she was still with Mike, but by now, Anna and I have actually become good friends. Mom and dad soon became fond of her, too; at least mom, but it never takes long for her to like new people. I guess she sees her as the daughter she always wanted but never had.

Dad on the other hand always needs a bit of time with people. I know that what bothered him about Anna at first was that she was so different and unusual. She’s introverted and yet dresses like she doesn’t care about anyone. She wears her hair and her goth clothes the way she wants and acts like she doesn’t care that people at school gossip about her, but we all know that it does bother her. She’s not the only Goth at our school, but she’s certainly the one who takes the look to a whole new level.

Dad couldn’t deal with her dark and ‘not normal’ make up at first, and the fact that her parents let her walk around like this even when she was younger. When he and mom got to know her parents, it was a little shocking for dad to see that there are parents who let their children do whatever they want and raise them in an antiauthoritarian way. When she first came over for dinner, I felt really bad for her because the entire time during the ‘school interrogation’ she was so nervous, especially when she had to admit that she was only average at school, and even bad in one or two subjects. The only subject she’s at the top of the class is English, and she actually wants to write a book when she’s older. I know that she already writes short stories and shares them with her friends at the school’s ‘creative writing’ club.

A few months ago, I’ve overheard her talking to one of her writing buddies at school. They were talking about some strange thing called ‘fanfiction’…they found out about this in some kind of girl magazine they’re reading, and now they’re doing it, too. Apparently, it means writing stories about their favorite bands, movies and book characters…who the fuck does that?! That’s so weird…but who am I to judge, we’re all a little weird.

When my parents saw that she’s a nice girl, polite and smart, they began to like her more, but I think that they’re only concerned because they don’t want Mike and me to be with someone who’s not ‘good enough’ for us. After Anna had turned full-on Goth, dad needed a few months to accept it, just like he needed time to accept me having that mohawk I had, dressing ‘experimentally’, like mom calls it, and painting my nails. He still has his difficulties with me and Anna sharing her nailpolish when she’s here, but while he can’t really understand it, he has almost accepted it by now. Last week, when Anna was here for dinner, it was one of the few times that he hasn’t commented on anything. No ‘Are you sure you should go to school with that skirt’, no ‘Why do you have to dye your hair in a new color every few months?’, and not even a single comment about ‘If you were my daughter I wouldn’t let you go out like this’. She has become more confident, and doesn’t even pull on her skirt anxiously to cover up more of her legs when someone criticizes her look, like she did in the beginning.

Mike loves the way she dresses, though. He adores her; he has a whole sketchbook of her, in both a realistic drawing style and as comic style characters. To be honest, Mike and Anna are both complete nerds. I heard her call him ‘adorkable’ last week, and I think that describes him perfectly. Yes, he’s the smart one, but he’s also even more of a nerd than I am, and in my own opinion, I’m already pretty nerdy, even kind of awkward sometimes. Mike and me, we’re both nerds in our own way. We’re all about video games and Star Wars movies and talking about music all day. He’s the best brother I could ever have wished for. But Mike and Anna…man, they are made for each other; I’m sure they’ll have a bunch of kids and be adorkable together.

I want that, too. I want to have a cute boyfriend who I can be adorkable with. I want someone who I can laugh and have fun with and kiss all day. Someone who is okay with my messed up brain and who understands me. That’s important. And, most of all, I want someone I can make out with. God, I wanna do more than kissing so badly. And I hope that in the near future, that person will be Dave. I still have to tell him that I go to therapy, and why I’m going there, but I think I’ll tell him soon, because I feel that I can trust him.

Currently I’m in the bathroom, styling my hair and then brushing my teeth before dinner, even though that’s not really necessary. I’m wearing my favorite black jeans and black and red striped t-shirt, plus black socks with tiny, neon-green cats on them. Lately I found this awesome store that has crazy socks in all colors and with all patterns one could wish for. It opened the week before the summer holidays started, and it’s in the same street as the ballet studio. I spent half my salary from my pizza delivery job on colorful, crazy socks, and I love them to no end. Pink unicorns, green kitties, glittery skeleton dogs, purple tarantulas dancing on a rainbow, they are all mine.

“Chaz, open the fucking door, how long do you plan on staying in the bathroom?” I hear Mike’s voice.

“Jeez, chill. I’m just repainting my nails. I’ll be done in five minutes!”

“Ugh, fine. And it’s quarter to seven, in case you wanted to know.”

“WHAT? ALREADY?!”

“You know, if you wouldn’t take so long in the bathroom, you’d actually be less stressed.”

“I AM NOT STRESSED!” I shout through the door, hastily applying black shiny nailpolish.

“Sure, drama queen.” he laughs, teasing me with the nickname I hate most.

“You call me that when Dave is here, and I’ll tell Anna that you keep one of her used black panties in the drawer under your bed.”

“Wait…how do you…”

“I was just looking for a CD I lent you! It’s not my fault when I find that stuff!”

“You went to my room when I was not there? How could you?!”

“You were mowing the lawn in the backyard! And I needed my CD!”

“I was just in the damn yard because mom made me do it. Weren’t YOU supposed to clean your fucking room that day?”

“I was! And then I thought I wanted to listen to music while I was at it, and I searched for my Nirvana CD but couldn’t find it, so I figured it was in your room.”

“You own like 20 other CDs! You could have just listened to something else! CDs, cassettes, anything! But nooo, you just had to sneak into my room!”

“That’s not the point!”

“Well, where was it then?”

“On your desk, you jerk.” I say when I finish painting my nails and blow on them to make them dry faster.

I open the door, leave the bathroom and attempt to shove Mike inside, which ends in one of our brotherly fights about who can push the other harder. I win this time, and a few minutes later when Mike comes down to the dinner table, our little dispute is forgotten and he helps me set the table. At exactly 6:55 PM the doorbell rings, and I almost trip over my own feet on the way through the hallway.

“And remember, please just be normal!” I remind my family.

“We’re always normal!” Mike argues while mom and dad smile at each other, glad that they finally get to know Dave. _Oh god, have I asked mom to not call me pumpkin while Dave is here? I hope I have…_

I open the door, flashing Dave my perfectly brushed teeth.

“Hey, Dave.”

“Hi, Chaz. How are you?”

“I’m fantastic! Come in. Oh, and this is Jason.” I say, gesturing to the overexcited dog that comes running to the front door, barking happily and unable to contain his joy to meet a new person. He’s always so friendly towards strangers, we’ve trained him well.

“Awww, he’s so cute!” Dave says, petting Jason behind his fluffy ears.

When Dave finally comes in, he sees that there are tons of shoes lined up on a small show rack in the corridor, so he takes off his white sneakers and places them next to my black boots. I guess he comes from a family that wears shoes inside, which is one of the things I can’t understand at all. _Why would people wear shoes in the house? That’s just weird. Or maybe it’s just one of the Japanese traditions dad tries to teach us. We went to a really fancy Japanese restaurant a while ago, where everyone had to leave their shoes at the door and sat on fluffy pillows on the floor while eating at a very low table. I liked the place because it was so different to where we usually go to when we don’t eat at home, and the food was straight up perfect. I’ve had happy sushi brain all evening._

“Listen…I, I…I have to tell you something.” he begins, looking really excited.

“Yes?”

“It wasn’t easy, but…I came out! I did it, Chaz! I told my parents I’m gay!”

At first, I don’t know what to say. I’m so incredibly happy for him, because I know that his parents aren’t exactly open-minded when it comes to homosexuality.

“What? You did? Oh my god! When? Tell me everything!” I demand, jumping up and down like a nervous child. I’m so happy!

“Well, um…I thought a lot about what you told me on the phone about how it was when you came out to your parents, and it made me think that I have to stop being afraid of my parents’ reaction. I knew they wouldn’t be thrilled, or supporting in any way, but I felt that I had to be honest, you know?”

I nod, holding his hands, waiting anxiously for further explanations.

“So…I told them this morning during breakfast. I said that there was something I had to tell them, and then I just said ‘mom, dad, I’m gay, I have a boyfriend and I’m invited to his parents’ house for dinner tonight’. I was completely honest and told them everything they wanted to know.” he rambles, explaining everything so fast that he almost stumbles over his words.

“And? How did they react?”

I watch him drop his eyes to the floor, smirk at my green and black kitty socks and look back up to me.

“As expected. They didn’t like it. Mom at least tried to be a little understanding, but dad…dad is, um…well…he’s currently not talking to me. Hasn’t said a word to me since my confession this morning. Mom asked me if I want to talk to our pastor and see if he can ‘help me with my problem’, but of course I said no. And when I told her that I don’t need to be fixed, and that there’s nothing wrong with me, she just yelled at me about God being ashamed of creating me.”

“I’m sorry it went this way.” I say, squeezing his hands.

“No, it’s okay. That was exactly what I had expected.” he says, shrugging his shoulders.

“So, um…How did you convince them to come over? I can imagine that they want you to stop seeing me, don’t they?” I ask with slight panic in my voice.

_They can’t do that! Not now! We were just getting started!_

“I told mom where I’m going and she just said I should do what I think is right, but that Jesus is always watching. I know that my parents sound really mean and stupid right now, but they are actually nice, you know? They’re just…”

“Homophobic.” I say, filling in the word he was trying to avoid.

“Yes.”

“I’m sure they’ll come around. Maybe they just need time to think about it.” I suggest, feeling unbelievably wise for giving such an advice.

“Yeah, maybe.” he replies, clearly not convinced.

“Hey, even my dad accepts it now. Your parents will understand one day, too.” I whisper, and we finally hug.

Right here, in the middle of my parents’ hallway, between shoes and jackets, next to the mirror and the artwork on the cream white wall. Then, kind of unexpectedly, we share a quick kiss.

“Dinner’s ready!” Mike suddenly shouts from the kitchen, which makes Dave and me break apart, giggling like schoolgirls, and walk into the dining room where it already smells amazing. Mom and dad have cooked together today; they said they had something important to talk about, and Mike and I keep hoping that maybe, just maybe, we’ll get a pool in the garden. Or perhaps they’re planning a little trip? I don’t know. But what I do know is that I’m nervous as hell right now because of all the things that can go wrong tonight. When we enter the room, mom and dad get up to shake Dave’s hand. _Oh god, I hope they like him._

“Hello, Mr. Shinoda.” Dave says politely while Mike and I grin at each other.

“Hello, David. Nice to meet you.” Dad says, giving Dave the warm Shinoda smile.

“Nice to meet you, too, sir.”

They engage in friendly small talk, Dave greets mom and before we sit down he and Mike share a one armed hug, even though they don’t know each other that well yet. They have only met once before, during the disastrous burger night, but I hope that they’ll become friends. I’m really glad that Mike is so cool and open about me having a boyfriend.

We have a large table and six chairs in the dining room, even though we normally need only four chairs, but my parents always want to be prepared for guests. I sit between Mike and Dave, opposite mom and dad while we eat chicken wings in home-made marinara with potato wedges and salad with vegetables straight out of our garden.

_This is the perfect meal for tonight, because it’s not very spicy and hot like some of the Japanese food we like to eat. Not spicy but still tasty, that’s good. It’s something to eat with a knife and a fork, not with these terrible chopsticks that can be confusing at first when you don’t know how to properly use them. Salad is always a good choice, too, because it’s healthy and you can eat as much fuckin’ salad as you want to. And potatoes! Who doesn’t like potatoes? Only a psychopath would dislike potatoes, right? Especially when they’re baked and crispy like now. I hope he likes chicken, too. Everyone likes chicken. But does he? I hope he does._

_Mom is always so thoughtful when she cooks for guests. She always makes something kosher when Brad or Rob come over. Nothing can go wrong now, can it? Oh my, I hope he’s not allergic to anything. I should have asked first! Why didn’t I ask? There are little, tiny peanut crumbs in the salad, what if he’s allergic to those? I knew something would go wrong, I knew it! What if he’s allergic to those damn peanuts and dies of an allergic shock? These things can happen, I saw it on TV!_

_…No, no, that won’t happen, Chester. No. Everything is fine. You don’t even know if he has any food allergies, calm down. Dinner is going well and you’re just stressing yourself out. Just drink your water and everything will be okay. Oh God! Water! Does he have something to drink? What if a piece of food gets stuck in his throat and he doesn’t have any water? Jesus, calm down. He has water. You’ve seen it yourself._

I snap back into reality as the anxiety disappears, listening to the main conversation going on right now. Dave tells mom and dad a bit about himself, and even praises their cooking, saying that he really likes it. Okay, that’s good, who doesn’t like it when a guest says that he likes the food? Oh man, now Mike is asking stupid questions about ballet. Why would he ask about ballet? He never asks me about it. Fine, that might also be because I keep telling him to not ask me about ballet. I just feel like he might laugh at me if I told him anything about it, but Dave seems to be confident enough to tell them how he got into ballet and what he likes about dancing, and also that his parents don’t like that he’s doing this.

Hm, they all get along well; maybe I was nervous for no reason. Dinner is almost over, and there hasn’t been a single uncomfortable question. Not about school, not about being gay, and not about anything else that might be embarrassing to talk about. Sure, Dave has talked a bit about moving here with his parents last year and that he goes to the same high school that Joe goes to, but so far, dad hasn’t interrogated him about his grades yet, and mom hasn’t asked about how his parents think about him being gay. It’s all been nice, lighthearted conversation, and soon, it’s time for dessert. Mom has prepared a simple chocolate pudding that I am ready to eat all on my own. Okay, maybe the others can get some, too…

“So, Dave, um, are you, like…out? Or are you still stuck in the closet?” Mike asks, and I intentionally step on his foot under the table.

So insensitive! He knew Dave hadn’t outed himself when we all met at the burger place, but that was almost two months ago, so there technically would have been the chance that he had come out by now, but I still don’t like that Mike asked. I’m glad we were talking really quietly when we were in the hallway earlier, so that neither Mike nor mom or dad have heard anything of our conversation.

“Um, to be honest…I…I came out to them this morning, but they haven’t really taken it well.” Dave admits.

I smile at him, touching his thigh with mine under the table. We’ve been brushing each other’s legs the whole time during dinner, and it made me feel really excited and happy.

“Oh? How so?” mom asks.

“They’re really catholic and I knew they are against, um you know, gay people.” he begins to explain, and soon, he tells them everything that he has told me before.

“I am certain they just need some time and will be fine with it when they have given it some thought.” Dad says in a calm voice, and I can’t help but be proud that even he has come around and accepted it by now.

I take a few moments to let sink in what he has just said, but my thoughts get interrupted when Dave replies that that’s just what I told him earlier in the corridor before we came to the dining room. Dad and I grin at each other; the whole atmosphere at home has changed ever since he and I have had that talk last week

xxxxx

When dinner is over, Dave and I go upstairs into my room, while, to everyone’s surprise, Mike announces that he volunteers to do the dishes and then wants to call Anna. When nobody is looking, I sign a quick ‘thanks’ in his direction. I know what he’s going to tell Anna on the phone; he has my permission to tell her all about me and Dave. Mom takes Jason for his evening walk while dad stays here, preparing a few documents for his work on Monday. I guess he just doesn’t want to leave us alone at home.

I close the door of my room behind Dave and me, and finally, god finally we are alone. Really alone, just him and me alone in a room. It’s not like in the youth center where there are always lots of other people around, and it’s not like in the café where we sat alone at a table, but it was in public. It’s also different than in the movie theater or in the park. Here we finally have privacy. Mike and dad are downstairs, and mom and Jason are out. Perfect.

“So, um…do you wanna listen to some music?” I ask a little hesitantly.

“Sure. What do you have?” he asks, even though we’ve had a lot of conversations about what kind of music we like.

Plus, it’s pretty obvious by the few posters on the walls in my room, and my CD and cassette collection next to my small, silver stereo. We agree on my beloved Stone Temple Pilots record and then take a seat on my bed, sitting next to each other quietly for a few seconds. We’ve been so comfortable with each other ever since we met, but now something is different. I can tell he’s as nervous as I am, and I’m trying to think of things to say that could break the ice.

“You’ve got a nice room.” Dave says.

“Um, thanks.”

“The blue walls are cool.”

“Yes, there are two of them. The other two are white.” I ramble, inwardly face-palming myself and blushing furiously at my stupid reply.

_Jesus, can this conversation get any more painfully awkward? I just wanna kiss!_

Slowly, I let my pinky finger find his and start rubbing, just like when we were at the movies on our first date.

“Listen, Chazzy, I’m kinda…um…“ he starts, staring down at his dark blue jeans and black and grey striped socks.

“Anxious?” I suggest. “Yeah, me, too.”

We look at each other, breaking into a fit of giggles, and suddenly, his hand is on mine, stroking his thumb over it, until I wrap my arms around his waist, facing him. In slow motion, we lean in and kiss; it’s a harmless kiss, just lips pressing on lips, nothing wild. Even though we have kissed lots of times now, even in public, this time is special because there is absolutely no one else around us. Our kisses become deeper, and I find myself crawling onto his lap.

_Man, this is awkward. Now what do I do? What do WE do?_

xxxxx

Now it’s a few minutes past 10 PM, which means that Dave has just gone home, and…I gotta say that I haven’t had such a perfect day in a long time! I mean it, a really long time. I’m laying on my bed, thinking back to what happened earlier. After the first few minutes of being completely alone with Dave for the very first time had been full of embarrassing moments none of us will want to talk about ever again, we got more comfortable with each other, until at some point, we found ourselves ditching our shirts and making out on my bed.

Okay, the making out part was actually really innocent and harmless, but we both had fun. I can’t believe that we finally went a little further! Yes, everything was indeed kind of weird and embarrassing at first, but it was also new and exciting. Not that new to me, though, because I’ve done all of those things with Talinda already, but with Dave it just felt different; better. Oh boy, we’re both so ready for more, but we also don’t wanna rush things. Making out with a guy, for me, feels better than with a girl. It feels right, and I still can’t wipe the smile off my face.

We talked about coming out to our friends, now that both of our families know. Well, almost everyone knows about it already, I guess. I’m sure they have all seen it when we were at the burger place, and as soon as Mike tells it to Anna, she’ll waste no time to call Talinda and blab it to her. She has always known, anyway, so what does it matter? Also, since Dave goes to school with Joe, they’re best friends, which means that Joe knows, too. After all, he’s been the one who recommended the youth center to Dave after he had seen it on his way to the movie theater. Dave told me that his other friends at school are having their suspicions, as well, and that he has told the truth to only one other person besides Joe.

There’s this girl who he is pretty close with, Lindsay, and Dave’s parents have always hoped for them to become a couple, oblivious to the fact that their son is gayer than a rainbow colored unicorn, and that Dave’s and Lindsay’s relationship is nothing more than friendship. Why do parents always see any female friend as a potential girlfriend?! His parents make me so angry, even though I have never met them.

Anyway, in three days, all of Mike’s and my friends will come over for a night of video games and homemade pizza, and Dave and I planned on telling everyone then. Luckily, mom and dad don’t complain when a bunch of teenagers camp out in their living room and raid their fridge. They actually like when they have a full house, which has been really great during the time of Mike’s and my grounding. There’ll be one more week, and then we are free to enjoy the rest of our summer holidays outside. Finally! Being grounded sucked so much, but one of the things that cheered us up a little was when either Rob or Brad, or both came to visit us. They are one of the few people that still don’t know about Dave and me, and honestly, I can’t wait to tell them.

Oh! Another thing that is great about having everyone here will be that Mike and I can finally collect the money we spent at the burger restaurant but didn’t have the chance to pay because of the disastrous ending of that evening. I remember how our parents showed us the bill and made us pay with our allowance. Mom took our money and went to the restaurant to pay the bill, but in a few days there will finally come the time that we get back all the money that our friends spent there.

xxxxx Monday

“Donna, honey?” Muto asked while he was sitting on the wooden bench in the garden.

“Yes, darling?”

“I think we should go out again, just you and me without the boys. We haven’t had much time for ourselves lately.”

“That’s true. These past two months have been so much trouble. I’ve been thinking about this, too.”

“Good. The boys can be trusted to not set this house on fire if we leave them alone for one night, can they?” he added, smiling at his wife.

“I’m sure they can, Muto. They’re old enough, and have been for a while. I think we should loosen our grip a little.”

“You’re so right, honey. You know I’m having a bit of trouble with that, but I’m trying to give them more freedom. So…what do you say about dinner and then staying the night at a hotel? It’s not too late to make a reservation.”

xxxxx Friday

Finally, after yet another stressful week, it was Friday evening, which meant that Donna and Muto could have their first night out in a long time. Raising two very strong-willed and stubborn teenagers could be challenging, and Donna thought that her and Muto really deserved a break from their two troublemakers. However, they had problems letting go of all the drama at home and talk about something else.

“What do you think they’re doing right now?” Donna asked while they were studying the menu.

“Well, I hope they’re not inviting 50 people and having a party at our house.” Muto laughed.

“Have a little faith in them, honey. I think that only Anna and David are coming over tonight. And that’s okay, they can all behave. By the way, I really like David. He’s a nice boy.”

“That’s true. This whole thing is still a little difficult for me, but you’re right. He is nice. Reasonable, calm. I think he might be good for Chester.”

“Hmhm. He needs someone who’s a good influence on him…I think I’ll have the salmon, what about you?”

“The steak sounds nice. God, I just hope they don’t sneak out when we’re not there.”

“Honey, I…I think they have already done that. Not tonight, but…do you really think they’d be so well-behaved that they stay at home when we’re both at work?”

“Good point. And even though they’re grounded, we can’t keep an eye on them 24/7.”

“I certainly know that _I_ would have taken this opportunity when I was a teen. And…did you notice how comfortable Chester was with David? They have definitely had several dates already.”

“You notice everything, don’t you?”

“I guess I do.” Donna replied, smiling. “Plus, I accidentally overheard Anna talking to Michael about some movie they went to last week.”

Muto groaned into his glass of red wine, closing his eyes for a second. He didn’t want to get upset; not tonight. “So, what do you suggest we do? I hate that they keep disobeying us like that, when they’re supposed to be grounded, and accept consequences for once in their lives, but at the same time, I can’t really blame them. Two months can be a long time.”

“I think we shouldn’t do anything. They are old enough to decide what they think is right and wrong, and I honestly think that they’ve been punished enough.”

After a few moments of thinking, Muto came to the conclusion that his wife was right. She always was, anyway.

“Fine, we won’t say anything about it. Let’s talk about something nicer.”

“I love you, honey.”

“I love you, too. I…I was thinking about a vacation next summer. It will be the summer before they boys’ last year in school, and I thought that maybe we could make a trip to Japan. I’d like to show them my country, what do you think?”

“Ohhh, that’s amazing! We haven’t been there since…when? I know it’s been a long time.”

“Since the year before we got married.”

“Oh, yes, now I remember! We had this adorable little hotel and spent most nights in clubs, can you imagine that? You and me going to clubs? It seems as if it was a whole different life.”

“It does.” Muto laughed. “I thought we could be there for one or two weeks and visit a few cities, do some sightseeing, you know, the usual.”

“Are you sure you can take two weeks off of work? One week, yes, but two?”

“I am sure it will all go well, honey. The lawyers office is doing great, as you know, and I think I’ll be able to make it.”

Over the course of the evening, they kept planning the vacation they going to take in the following year; they had a nice dinner, drank plenty of wine and caught a cab to their hotel.

xxxxx meanwhile at home

I can’t believe our luck. Mom and dad are gone for the night and will only return tomorrow morning! Mike and I have invited Anna and Dave to just chill here. We thought about asking them to spend the night here and leave before mom and dad return. Anna’s parents have given her permission, of course. They let her do almost everything she asks for. I don’t know about Dave, though, he hasn’t arrived yet, but he’s gonna be here any minute now. From what he has told me, his parents make him go to church with them every Sunday, and pressure him into confessing his sin of being gay to their priest, so he can ‘help’ him. Whatever the hell that means. But Dave doesn’t give in. He told me he’s had multiple fights with his mother about his ‘situation’, and that his dad ignores his existence at home since he came out to them, but despite of his parents’ fear of having a sinful, gay son, they tell him he can do whatever he wants. I think they are absolutely unable to handle the situation…

Anyway, I’ve just heard the doorbell, which means I leave Mike and Anna in charge of heating up the food mom left us here, and make my way to the door.

“Hey! There you are! Are you allowed to sleep here? Please say that you are!” I ramble, hugging him.

“Calm down, Chazzy! Yes, I can sleep here.”

“Awesome! Come eat, we have lots of food. And popcorn! You like popcorn, right? Wait, of course you do. I know you do.”

Dave leaned in and silenced Chester with a kiss that only the loud beeping sound of the microwave interrupted.

_These past few days have been good. I’m happy with my boyfriend, the situation at home has improved a fucking lot, and our grounding will be over soon. I haven’t had much anxiety, and I’m getting more physical with Dave. It’s going slow, but we’re getting there. Last Tuesday, when the guys were here, we came out to them, and they all took it surprisingly well. ‘Okay, cool’ and ‘yes, we know’ was everyone’s response, and I am so fucking glad that that was all it took. I officially have a boyfriend and no one seems to mind. Perfect._

xxxxx

**Thanks for reading!**


	30. Chapter 30

We’re all huddled together on the couch, watching a movie Anna lent from the video rental store earlier today. She and Mike are cuddling under one of the blankets on the one side of the couch while Dave and I are on the other side, secretly holding hands underneath the second blanket we keep on the couch for evenings like these. On the table in front of us are the remains of the reheated lasagna we had when we started the movie. Almost empty plates and half empty bottles of soda are everywhere, and the room now smells like warm, sweet popcorn.

Also, we played rock paper scissors to decide who has to get up and bring some of the ice cream we keep in the freezer, and when Anna was the one who lost, Mike, as always, couldn’t help but stare at her when she walked over to the kitchen. I can tell that he’s still as smitten with her as he was in the beginning. She’s wearing a short black and grey skirt, and a black top that has berry-colored ribbons on the back. Also black tights and these black shiny bracelets Mike gave her. The black silky choker necklace she’s wearing tonight is actually something that I picked out when Mike asked me what to get her for Christmas.

I remember that day last December when we went to the mall with our parents to go gift-shopping, and Mike and I were having a little too much fun in one of the stores. Mom and dad were in some other store at the time, so I tried out weird spiky leather bracelets while consulting Mike on what to give Anna. We were being so loud and silly that they almost threw us out of the store, but in the end we left there with a pretty necklace for her. Lately I’ve been thinking about going back to that store for the spiky bracelets, but I guess dad would get an absolute heart attack if I wore those in public. They’d go well with my black nails, though, wouldn’t they?

So as Mike is watching Anna, Dave and I sneak each other kisses while the movie gets more and more in the background. I like being so close to him under the blanket, it’s warm and cozy and closer than we’ve ever been to each other. We’re both dressed really casually tonight; in thin hoodies and dark jeans, while Mike is in a t-shirt and baggy jeans. I always make an effort to stand out a little; tonight it’s again my crazy colorful socks and my glittery black nails that make me look a little special. My mind drifts to later tonight, when we’ll sleep side by side in my bed. Dave’s overnight bag is still in the hallway next to his grey and white sneakers and Anna’s heavy black goth boots with purple laces. Oh, by the way it’s the first time ever that Mike and I are allowed to have our girl- and boyfriend sleep here. Up until today, every guest we had had to leave at a certain time, but not tonight. I wonder how mom convinced dad to allow us these sleepovers…

I spent a whole day wracking my brain for what to sleep in tonight. Should I go for pajamas? Or just underwear? Boxer shorts and a t-shirt? This is all so complicated. Plus, it’s still summer, and frankly it would be too hot for pj’s. Also, I usually sleep in only my boxers in summer, but I don’t really know if I want to do this with Dave sleeping besides me. I mean…I do, just not yet. I also don’t know what he will wear to bed tonight, and to be honest it makes me a bit nervous, but maybe I’m just worrying over nothing. Oh! Anna comes back with the ice cream, two bowls and four spoons, and finally we focus on the movie again.

An hour later, the movie is over, and we spend the rest of the evening just talking and laughing, zapping through TV channels until we find something worth watching. I like how Dave and I can just openly be affectionate with each other and neither Mike nor Anna seem to mind. We’re cuddling under the blanket, and I feel warm and safe. For now. _Who knows what happens later? What happens if he touches me somewhere I don’t like it? I still have to tell him about therapy…_

We stay up late that night, having fun and talking about stupid things. Currently, Mike is telling that story about how he managed to break a window in Brad’s parents’ house when he was in first grade. Anna and I already know the story, but Dave doesn’t, and so, Mike explains in great detail how Brad and he decided to play baseball inside because they didn’t want to play outside on a rainy day, and how it all ended in Mike not paying attention for a second, which resulted in him being unable to hit the ball with the baseball bat in time. The way Mike tells it, it’s a hilarious story, but I bet Brad’s parents weren’t happy about a broken window in their house, and I don’t even want to think about mom’s and dad’s reaction to paying for a replacement…Right now, though, we all laugh about it because everything is funny after a lot of time has passed. It’s been ten years since this incident, which makes me hope that we can also laugh about Mike’s and my little trip to the police station ten years from now.

When we’ve all calmed down again, we return to watching this weird late night game show on TV, but since it isn’t that interesting, Dave and I soon start keeping ourselves busy with each other.

“Jeez, you guys, get a room!” Mike eventually interrupts Dave’s and my harmless kissing.

“ _You_ get a room!” I shoot back, and after a short argument, he and Anna go upstairs, leaving Dave and me alone on the couch.

I’m glad we’ve already had several dates, so that we’re comfortable with each other. We stay on the couch for about an hour, giving Mike and Anna some privacy for whatever they’re doing upstairs. I’m glad to be alone with Dave now, I’ve waited for this all evening, and I know that he has, too. Jason has been sleeping on his cushion in the hallway for a while now, so we can’t be interrupted by neither annoying siblings nor attention seeking dogs. While Mike and Anna are upstairs, Dave and I leave the TV on a low volume as we get more physical with each other. The only items of clothing we ditch are our hoodies and t-shirts, but we’ve made out shirtless before, so that’s not a problem. Everything is still very innocent in my opinion, but I think I’d feel better if I did those things in my own bed instead of the couch in the living room.

It’s past 1 AM when Dave takes his overnight bag up to my room and we eventually get ready for bed. I’m feeling a little bit of anxiety as I think about sharing a bed with another boy for a whole night, but I push my worries aside. _Now is not the time for anxiety, Chester. You can do it_ , I tell myself. Suddenly, the moment has come. We have to get out of our jeans and change into something that is more suitable for bed. I haven’t been this nervous in a long time. I can’t show him that, though. I want to appear cool and confident…

I’m relieved to see him being a little nervous, too, even though we’ve already seen each other in just underwear in the changing room of the ballet studio. This is different, so different, because here, we are alone. There aren’t twenty giggling girls around us that talk about their boyband crushes or where they bought that new pretty skirt they’re wearing; no, here it’s just us. At the ballet studio, I’ve made the experience that a girls’ changing room is a wild place, and once they’ve figured out that you’re gay or at least not interested in them, they have no shame at all anymore. Mike would pass out from all the boobs I’ve seen there.

Hesitantly, Dave and I undress, stealing glances at each other. It’s not even as if we were naked or anything, but I feel really excited and scared at the same time. _Oh boy, the trainwreck emotions can hit when I’m least expecting them…_

Now we’re sitting on the edge of my bed in just boxer shorts, and I’m trying to figure out if there is any use in wearing t-shirts now, anyway. It’s a hot night in August, and even the ceiling fan isn’t very useful right now, so why wear more than what is necessary? I always sleep like this when I’m alone. The only source of light is the lamp on my nightstand as I tentatively take his hand and pull him onto the mattress with me. I can see in his eyes that we have silently agreed on no t-shirt for tonight, and I’m trying to get comfortable with this idea. As we get a little bolder with each other under the blanket, I’m thinking of how new and exciting all of this is. I never went this far with Talinda, but that might also be because we were too young at the time.

For now, though, nothing major happens. We’re just laying here side by side and talk while holding hands. I switch off the lamp and now it’s totally dark in my room. I can only pray that on the other side of the wall, Mike and Anna are already asleep.

“Chaz, um…since you‘re not grounded anymore, I thought we could see each other more often.”

“That would be great! But…what about your parents? They don’t like you being gay, or have they changed their minds?”

“No, but they’ll come around one day, hopefully. We don’t really talk about it at home, and as long as we’re avoiding the topic, that’s okay. I don’t need them telling me that I’m a disappointment and that I should go to church to cure my illness. I just wanna be with you.” he replies, kissing my cheek in the dark. “And…I know we’ve seen each other almost every day this week, but I thought that, uh…we could…you know…spend more nights together. I, I think I wanna do more, if you know what I mean.”

I squeeze his hand, giggling a little. “Yeah, I…I know what you mean. And I think I wanna do more, too.”

Slowly, I let go of his hand and feel over his bare stomach, letting it rest just above the waistband of his boxers. I don’t know how to tell him that on the one hand, I do wanna go further, but on the other, I’m terrified of that.

“Ohhh, that feels good…” he mumbles. “So…I can’t tomorrow and Sunday, but what do you say about Monday? Are you free this time?”

_Shit. What do I say?_

“Monday? I, I…I can’t see you Monday. I, uh, I have an appointment.” I stutter, removing my hand from his warm, bare skin.

“What kind of appointment lasts all day?!”

“Uhhh, listen, um…”

“You’re never free on Mondays. What is it that you _do_ on that day?” he asks patiently, but I know that if I don’t tell him the truth about therapy now, he might stop trusting me.

Some time passes as I frantically think about ways to explain what I do on Mondays. And he’s right, the appointment doesn’t last all day, but the drive to and from Dr. Baker’s office takes long, too, so when I get back home, it’s already dinner time. Of course, I’d have some free time before I go there, but usually I have school before therapy, and during the holidays, I like to spend my Mondays without any action.

“Chester?” he asks again, reaching for my hand, but I jerk away from him.

“Therapy.” I blurt out. “I, I…I go to therapy.”

_Damn, it’s out. What will he think of me now?_

“Um, okay.” he says slowly. “What would _you_ need to go to therapy for?”

I take a deep breath to calm my nerves, trying to convince myself to tell him everything he needs to know. My other close friends know that I go to therapy, too, and they don’t make fun of me for it, so surely Dave will understand, won’t he?

“Dave, …if I told you something about my, uh…my past, you wouldn’t think I were a freak or something, would you?”

“I, I guess not.” he replies in a calm voice, again reaching for my hand, and this time I accept his touch.

Letting out a long sigh, I think about how to explain everything. When we met and got to know each other, I already told him that Mike’s parents adopted me because my former home wasn’t that ideal, but I never went into details. It’s all people need to know, anyway. I was adopted when I was 11, and that’s it. The rest is none of anyone’s fucking business. But Dave needs to know. If I seriously want to do more with him than just cuddling in underwear, he has to know what’s going on with me.

“I told you that mom and dad, I mean…Mike’s parents…that they adopted me when I was 11 years old, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And I told you that they did that because my, um…my situation before that wasn’t that great, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did, but you never told me what happened exactly.”

For several minutes, he and I lie in the dark as I tell him about my past, and how Mike’s parents went from ‘Mr. and Mrs. Shinoda’ to ‘mom and dad’ almost five years ago. Dave listens without interrupting me, and instead just holds my hand. I plan on telling him more than just what’s necessary, but for now, the basic story is enough information.

“…And…and that’s why they sent me to a therapist when I was 12. I used to go there every Monday, but for about a year now it’s been only every second Monday of the month. And before you ask – on the Mondays where I don’t go there, I like to stay at home and write in my diary or listen to some music and stuff like that, you know, to calm down.”

“I…I never knew you had such issues with anxiety and all that.” he says when I’m done explaining.

“Well, I…I really do. Sometimes. Not all of the times, of course, but sometimes I get these anxiety attacks where I feel like I can’t breathe and I tell myself all kinds of stupid shit. I bet you think that’s weird and embarrassing, don’t you?” I ask in a quiet voice.

“No, no. Not at all! It’s not embarrassing!”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Dave says, and after some time has passed, he asks: “You…you go to a real therapist? Like a psychiatrist?”

“I do. She’s great, by the way.”

“Must be cool to have someone to talk to.”

“Oh, trust me, it’s not always fun to talk about certain things.” I reply, unsure why I’m being so damn honest about this.

“I, I can imagine that, but…at least you know you can always tell her about the things you’re dealing with, can’t you?”

“Uh, yeah. Listen, um, last week when we were in the youth center, I saw those flyers about a project that’s supposed to start there next week. I didn’t say anything about the flyers because you hadn’t seen them and I thought it would be stupid to tell you about this anyway, but…the point is…I took one of them home because I thought it might be interesting, and – “ I ramble nervously before he asks me what the hell I’m talking about.

“Well, you, you said you would also like someone to talk to, and…they’ll test a new project at the youth center. It’s a self-help group for those of us who are having trouble at home, you know? With parents who just don’t understand that not being straight is nothing bad.”

Suddenly, Dave is wide awake and I can feel him turn onto his stomach, resting his head on his elbows.

“What? And it’s supposed to start next week?”

“Yeah. Every day of the week at four PM. Everyone can just come and talk about their issues with the group. I, I wasn’t sure if I could talk to you about this, you know? But, um, we could go together if you’d like. I have to work at the pizzeria on a couple of days, but we could go a few times a week, or just once a week. Like Mondays when I don’t go to therapy. Or every Friday. Whatever you want.”

“That would be amazing!” he says.

I can hear the excitement in his voice, and I think that he’s totally okay with me going to therapy, but there’s still something I have to tell him.

“Dave, um…can we talk a bit more about what I told you earlier?”

“Of course, Chaz. I’m, I’m just kind of excited about the youth center, sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” I laugh, pressing a quick kiss on his cheek. “So, um…what I told you about this…this man who, um, molested me…”

“Yes?”

“What might happen because of him is that I…that I could, like, freak out when we do more than cuddling. When there’s a wrong touch that triggers memories or something.”

“But how do I know what a wrong touch is?” he asks hesitantly.

“That’s the problem. I don’t know, either; it could be anything. So what I’m asking for is…is just that we take it slow, okay? I don’t _wanna_ go slow, to be honest, but we should, if that’s fine with you.”

“Sure.” he immediately replies. “We can take it slow. I mean, I want to do more, like I told you earlier, but we don’t have to rush things.”

Suddenly, I have to laugh; why is he so understanding of my situation? I didn’t expect that, which is what I tell him when he asks me what’s so funny.

“What’s so funny all of a sudden?” he asks, turning on his back and wrapping an arm around me.

“Nothing. It’s just…why are you so cool with this? I didn’t think you’d be so accepting of this.”

“Well, I’d be a total ass if I’d make fun of you, wouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, you would.” I admit before we share a few kisses. “And…since we can’t see each other next Monday, I thought we could meet on Tuesday.”

“I’d like that. What do you wanna do?”

“I have to work in the evening, but maybe we could eat ice cream and then go to the youth center if you want.”

“Sounds great, Chazzy. Three PM?”

We quickly agree on a time and place for our next date, and soon, we’re back to kissing. Surprisingly, I don’t feel too vulnerable being in bed with him wearing nothing but my boxer shorts; so far, it feels nice, and it makes me want to go further. Now that we’ve talked about me going to therapy, I feel that I can do stuff with him that I have thought about many times when I was alone in bed. “Hey, Dave?” I ask, placing my hand on his stomach again. “Yes?” “I, I know it’s really late right now, but…do you wanna, like…um, maybe…do more?”

“Oh, you mean…?”

“Hmhm.”

“Are you sure?”

“I think so. Do you want to?”

“I do. What do you have in mind?” he asks, and I can hear that he’s breathing harder now.

“I thought we could…maybe…do this?” I ask as I let my hand wander down his stomach and then slowly to the front of his boxers, lightly squeezing what my hand finds there.

xxxxx

So that’s what it feels like. God, I feel amazing, and I know that it was like that for him, too. It’s not that we went really far or anything; it was just me rubbing my hand up and down his, um, private parts, and when he had finished, he did the same to me. It felt good, but it was over too quickly for both of us; over and done with in just a few minutes. I guess that’s because it was our first time doing this with another person, and we were really excited. Plus, we couldn’t even see anything since it’s so damn dark in here, and also we weren’t really naked, because we did it over our underwear.

It felt so fucking awesome, anyway, and I could do it again anytime now. I’m glad that I keep a box of paper tissues in my drawer, so I won’t have to explain a stained mattress… and all in all, I think I might be ready for more. Slowly of course, but I have to get rid of my fear of being touched by another guy. Tonight went well, but who knows what can happen when we go further?

xxxxx

I wake up from the sunlight shining into my room; I can feel the warmth on my face, so I slowly crack open one eye and glance at the alarm clock on my bedside table. It’s nine AM, which means that we got about six or more hours of sleep last night. Ugh, I usually get more sleep during the weekend. But who needs sleep anyway? Not me. I feel great, I feel like a grown up, I feel like Dave and I did something really cool last night. He’s behind me, still sleeping I guess, holding on to me with one leg bent over my hips. I can feel him pressing lightly against my butt, which feels strange and nice at the same time, so I decide to rest my eyes for ten more minutes.

Apparently, resting my eyes has turned into completely falling asleep again, and when I wake up for the second time this morning, it’s because of a nightmare I had. Quickly, I open my eyes, trying to forget the images in my head. I should have known that what we did last night came too soon. It was a mistake to do this already. The feeling of my boyfriend holding me and pressing against my backside doesn’t feel so good anymore; it doesn’t feel like him; it feels like someone else. Someone I wanted to erase from my memory. His hand on my hip crushes me, like it’s holding me under water and I can’t breathe. Suddenly, it’s too hot underneath our blanket, way too hot.

Panic. Anxiety. Fear.

_I can feel it coming, and I can’t do anything against it. It starts like it always starts; my throat feels dry and my chest gets tighter, my field of vision begins to feel limited, cold sweat is breaking out all over my body. Why does this always happen to me?_

_I need to get out of this blanket. I need to get away and get a cold shower. I need to breathe. …Yes, breathe. That’s what you do, Chester, just breathe. It was just a dream. A dream, a dream, a dream. Not real. Calm down. It’s not him behind you, remember that. He’s dead, and has been for years. He can’t hurt you anymore. Breathe, breathe, breathe. In and out. In and out. You know how to do it. You could breathe through it on your own at the police station, you can do it again now._

I kick my legs to get out of the blanket, and I start to squirm to get out of Dave’s hold on me. _Maybe he wakes up when I struggle. Maybe I feel better when I can move and breathe. I need air…_

“Chaz? Chaz? What’s going on?” I can hear his sleepy voice somewhere in the back of my mind.

I can feel him hugging me, and even though being held by anyone is the last thing I want right now, it does help me every time. A few moments later, my chest doesn’t feel so tight anymore and I can finally breathe normally. When I regain control over my senses, I find myself sitting in bed next to him, resting my back against the wall.

“Are…are you okay? What just happened? I, I didn’t know what to do!” Dave says.

“Um…that was just a bad dream. You did everything right.” I mumble, not looking at him as I blush.

“That was the anxiety you told me about, wasn’t it?” he asks carefully.

I nod wordlessly at first before a stream of words bursts out of me. “Listen, Dave…can we just not talk about this right now? I, I’d like to go take a shower.”

“Um, sure. Just…don’t be embarrassed, okay? It’s fine.”

Again, I nod without saying a word. After grabbing a fresh pair of boxers, socks and a t-shirt, I escape to the bathroom.

_Why? Why, why, why does this always happen?_ I think as I turn on the water. I’ve decided on an ice cold morning shower to clear my head, and when I get out a few minutes later, I actually feel refreshed and more awake than ever before. It seems that Dave really does accept me for who I am. Yes, he’s confused by what happened this morning, but who wouldn’t be? Plus, he reacted perfectly, and he told me to not be embarrassed, which shows that he won’t make fun of me for my messed-up brain. I return to my room, finding him digging through his overnight bag and searching for clean clothes and soap.

“Hey, I think I forgot my soap, can I use yours?” he asks.

Oh boy, I really appreciate that he doesn’t bring up what happened earlier…

“Sure! Use all the soap you need, babe.” I reply, smacking a loud kiss on his cheek.

The door of my room is open, so I can see that just when Dave opens the bathroom door, Mike and Anna step out of his room, ready to go to the bathroom, as well. And – oh God - they’re wearing matching Star Wars pajamas; I can’t believe those dorks. Mike shoots us a questioning look that says ‘why the hell are you guys walking around here half naked? What happened last night?’, but I just smirk at him in return. Anna and Dave both look slightly uncomfortable; Dave because he clearly wasn’t expecting company while he stands in the doorway, clutching socks and underwear to his naked chest; and Anna because she obviously doesn’t know where to look.

“Morning.” she eventually says.

“Morning.” we reply awkwardly.

“Come on, babe, this place has two bathrooms. Let’s go downstairs. The shower there has room for two.” Mike suggests, taking Anna’s hand.

“Wait, you take a shower _together_?!” I blurt out without thinking.

Never in a million years would Mike take his shirt off anywhere outside of the bedroom or bathroom. He doesn’t even like to change his clothes in the locker room at school, and I’m sure that it took him months to be shirtless in front of his own girlfriend, and now he suddenly can even shower with her? _When did that happen? I’m impressed._

“Uh, yeah.” he answers. “Don’t tell mom and dad we used their bathroom.”

“And what if I do?”

“Come on, Chaz, I mean it! They can’t know.”

“First time that she’s allowed to sleep here and the first thing you do is bang in our parents’ bathroom? Damn, Mike.” I tease him, and both Anna and Dave burst out in laughter while Mike and I banter with each other over the next few minutes until he and Anna eventually go downstairs. I love those moments when we can just make silly jokes that no one else should hear; plus, joking around has chased my anxiety demons away, and I feel a lot better now.

xxxxx

When Dave comes back from the shower, I’m already fully dressed, and I know that now, we _should_ talk a bit about this morning. I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, watching him get dressed as I start to explain myself.

“About…about earlier, you know, um, when you woke up. Do you have any questions about that?” I ask him.

“Um, depends on if you want to talk about it or not.”

“Well, I don’t really _want_ to talk about it, but…maybe we should do it anyway? I don’t want you to think I was some kind of weirdo.”

“I know you’re not a weirdo, Chazzy. I, I really like you, and your, um, problems or whatever you wanna call them won’t change anything.”

“Awww, come here!”

Once again, we find each other on my bed, kissing and giggling until my eyes land on the alarm clock.

_Fuck! Almost 10:30! Mom and dad will be home anytime and the living room still looks as if a bomb was dropped there!_

“Dave, babe…we have to clean up downstairs!” I remind him.

When we come downstairs, the living room looks as expected. The remains of our movie night have turned the room into complete chaos. There’s plates and half-empty drinks on the couch table, plus the soda bottles that no one bothered to put back into the fridge last night. Open bags of chips and popcorn lie on the couch and there are little pieces of popcorn on the carpet, table and couch. The clothes Dave and I threw on the floor carelessly could also paint the wrong picture if anyone saw them, so we waste no time tidying up the whole room and even vacuuming it while Mike and Anna are still doing god knows what in the shower. When we’re done, the living room looks as impeccable as never before.

Our wet hair has dried by now, and we’re ready to leave the house with Jason for his morning walk, so I leave a note on the table saying that I’ll be back later. I plan on dropping Dave of near his parents’ house and then walk the whole way back, even if it will take a while. Now that I’m not grounded anymore, I want to spend as much time outside as I can. Dave grabs his overnight bag while I style my hair as fast as possible, because even when I’m only walking my dog, there’s no way I’d leave the house with my hair not spiked to perfection. We make ourselves some toasts to eat while we walk, and then we’re out the door.

xxxxx

Meanwhile at home, Mike had also remembered the state of the living room, so he and Anna rushed out of the shower when they were done, opening the window so that every trace of foggy air would leave his parents’ bathroom before they came home, which could be any second. To their surprise, the room was already tidied up, so Mike had enough time to get dressed, close the bathroom window and walk Anna home. They had skipped breakfast, knowing that Anna’s parents would make them something to eat when they arrived there. He, too, left a note on the table, and just five minutes after they were gone, Muto and Donna came home from their night out.

They had checked out late on purpose to give their sons some time to wake up, but what they saw when they entered the house was totally unexpected.

“Muto? Honey?”

“Yes, darling?”

“This room looks too clean.” Donna said one second after she had stepped into the living room.

“Yes, I can see that. What happened in here?” Muto asked both himself and his wife as he followed her. “And where is everyone? It’s barely after 11…”

“Oh, look! They left us notes.” Donna replied as she read both notes out loud while walking into the kitchen. “Even the dishwasher is on…”

“It looks as if someone really cleaned this whole room from top to bottom. Look at that! Wait…is the couch vacuumed, darling?”

“Well, _I_ certainly didn’t do it in a week. Let me check.”

“I’m sure it is! Look! Even under the table…I can’t believe this…”

“Oh my God, it is! Never in my whole life has anyone vacuumed this couch other than me. Are you sure we’re in the right house?” she joked, making two cups of coffee.

“Honestly, I’m not so sure.” Muto laughed.

“See? I told you they could be left alone for some time. Maybe we did raise them to be responsible, Muto. Come on, let’s have some coffee before they come home.”

xxxxx

Three weeks later, the summer holidays were almost over. Donna and Muto didn’t really see their sons that often, because ever since their grounding had come to an end, they spent most of their time outside. They were at their friends’ houses, at the beach, the mall, the youth center or at the park. The only activities Mike and Chester did at their own home were sleeping and eating, but mostly, they spent their remaining summer with all the things they missed out on during their grounding. There had even been another barbecue party at Joe’s parents’ house that they attended. The only exceptions were Friday nights, since Muto and Donna had decided that now that their sons were old enough, they could be left on their own regularly. Friday had turned into date night for Muto and Donna, and movie night at home for Mike, Anna, Chester and Dave. Everyone was happy with this arrangement, and as long as the house was in the same state as it was when they left it, Muto and Donna didn’t even question what happened there in their absence; it was one of the new freedoms they wanted to give their sons.

Sadly, the holidays were over too quickly, as they always were, and school would start again soon.

xxxxx

**Thanks for reading! The decision to make Anna a goth girl in this fic came from a photo that real-life-Anna shared on her Instagram a while ago, and the description of her clothes in this chapter is a reference to an adorable drawing I saw on twitter.**


	31. Chapter 31

One month after the new schoolyear has started, I find myself, once again, in Dr. Baker’s office, spilling my guts. The previous month has been great, really. Mom and dad have told us about wanting to go on vacation to Japan next summer. Freaking Japan! Mike and I are already so excited! The next announcement was that we finally – finally! – will get a pool in the garden next year. They had actually planned it for this year, but apparently Mike and I were so difficult all year that they decided against it…but I guess that’s our own fault.

Also, and probably most importantly, I’ve opened up more about my past to Dave, and he’s been patient with me when we made out. We’re going at a really, really slow pace, and I mean slow. Snail speed, to be exact, and while we’re both impatient to go further, I know I can’t rush anything. I’m so glad he accepts that…

I’m currently telling my therapist how school has been so far, that Dave and I still enjoy doing ballet, that I still have my pizza delivery job, and that things at home with my parents are surprisingly peaceful. Yes, dad gave Mike and me the annual speech about keeping up at school and bringing home good grades, and there have been a few little arguments, but other than that, we’ve been fine. I also tell her about the self-help project at our youth center. It’s been such a big success that the group is now a regular part of the center’s program, and Dave and I have been going there once a week since it started. We’re at the youth center several times a week, anyway, for other reasons, but I think Dave really likes the group we go to every Friday after school and before we go to my place while my parents are gone. Mike and I really appreciate that although it’s school again, mom and dad leave the house to us once we’ve done our homework on Fridays. The only thing that really sucks is my anxiety that’s been acting up more and more in recent weeks.

“And how do you feel about talking about some of your issues in a group, Chester?” she asks me.

“Uh, to be honest…I’m there for Dave, not for myself. I really don’t like talking about my issues with other people, I guess I don’t feel comfortable with sharing these things. Whenever we’re there, he and the others talk a lot, while I sit there and listen to their stories. I’m more of a moral support for Dave when he vents about his parents and how he feels that they don’t understand him, you know?”

As I lie on the couch with my eyes closed, trying to calm down during therapy, I hear her scribbling down something in her notebook, and then ask me some more questions about how he and I deal with my past. I feel more than uncomfortable talking about this, but I know I have to do it. Today was a good day, so I just sigh and start telling her that we’ve had a few incidents whilst making out, and how I feel about having to go slow when I actually want to do all the things with him that other people do in relationships.

I really hate that now that I finally have a boyfriend who is such a sweetheart and who likes me back, my fucking past catches up to me. I thought I’d finally be done with nightmares and fears, but no. “…And…and then last week after he had gone home, I, I had something like a breakdown while I was in my room.”

“Do you want to describe it to me?”

“Well, um…we had…done stuff, and we both liked it, but when I was alone in my room later that day, and I thought about it, those damn memories came back. My brain kept telling me these terrible things about what had happened when I was little, and how I’m sick for doing those things with my boyfriend now. I felt like I was losing control over my mind, you know? It got hard to breathe, but I got through it somehow, I always do. This happens more often lately, and I don’t know what to do about it. The damn nightmares are back, too. They happen more than once a week now. I think just talking about it doesn’t help anymore…”

“But you do know that there is nothing wrong with you, don’t you? Being with a boy instead of a girl does not make you a sick person.”

“I know, I know…really, I understand that. It just fucking sucks.”

“What sucks? Descriptive words, Chester; they help you understand yourself. Put your feelings into words.” she says, writing down more.

“Um…okay, I’ll try. What sucks is…is that almost every time when I think about what I do with Dave, my brain ruins those memories by, um, how do I say it…by replacing the good memories with what happened in my childhood. I feel like sometimes when I get these…these flashbacks, I can’t control my own thoughts anymore.”

“Have you talked to your parents about this?”

“God, no. I don’t want them to worry. I haven’t told Mike anything about it, either, if that’s what you wanted to ask next.” “Okay.” she says, writing down something. “When does this usually happen? Only when you’re alone?” “Mostly, yes. When I’m alone with my stupid psycho brain.” I say bitterly. “Sometimes when it happens while I’m with Dave, it’s just…like…short flashes of panic, or something. I don’t know how to describe it.”

“No, no. That sounds like a good description already. When you’re alone, do you feel as if you get lost in the bad memories? As if the memories get too overwhelming?” she asks carefully.

“Yeah. Like I can’t get out of it on my own. It…it goes away after a while, when I really focus on feeling better, but it’s kinda frustrating, you know?”

“Okay, there is something you could try. I have suggested this a while ago, but you weren’t willing to even consider it back then.”

_Oh god, no. I know what she means,_ I think, groaning in annoyance.

“Ah, I can tell that you remember.”

“Hmhm.” I say, barely nodding my head.

“Good. Do you want to listen this time?”

“Ugh, I have to, don’t I?”

“Well, the alternative would be that we try some light anxiety medication.”

“We?!”

“You.”

“No.” I instantly disagree, opening my eyes and sitting up. “No. I don’t wanna take any pills. Plus, wouldn’t you have to talk to my parents about that?”

“Yes, of course. I know that they have always tried to help you without involving any kind of pills, but considering this increase in anxiety and panic issues lately, some light medication could be beneficial.” she explains. I know that mom is sitting in the waiting room right now, and think of how I don’t want her and dad knowing how bad the anxiety has gotten lately. I try to hide it at home, because I don’t want them to worry about me. “There is an alternative to medication, but I can’t promise that it will work for you, or that you will never have to take medication. Only time will tell how everything turns out. But I still have to talk to your mom later.” “Ugh, fine.” “Okay. So, this approach is called mindfulness, as I told you a while ago. It can help you regain control over your mind when you feel as if the anxiety is taking over.” “And how the hell is that supposed to work?” I ask, already not motivated to listen. “There is this exercise called ‘Five senses’, which can help you focus, help you find sleep at night, and reduce anxiety.”

“Kinda sounds like some meditation crap.” I say defiantly, crossing my arms over my chest.

“It is. But it’s not ‘crap’, it’s the only alternative to taking a pill every morning that I see right now.”

I let out a long sigh, rolling my eyes. _I don’t wanna do either of those things…_

“Fine.” I eventually reply. “How does this exercise work?”

“Tell me what the five senses are, Chester.” she says in a patient, calm voice.

“Uuuum…seeing, feeling, hearing, smelling and tasting, right?”

“Exactly. Tell me five things you can see.”

With my arms still crossed and a stubborn frown on my face, I look around the room, naming five things I can see in her office.

“Good. Now four things you can feel.”

“Do you mean inside or outside?”

Apparently, she hasn’t expected this question, but a second later she says “Only things you can feel on the outside, with your sense of touch.”

“Oh, okay…I, I guess I can feel, um…the couch, the pillow, my shirt, and…the shelf next to the couch.”

“Now three things you can hear.”

“I…I can hear the cars outside. A bird. And…and people talking in the waiting room.”

“Now two things you can smell.”

I have to focus really hard to find something, but when I do, I actually am a little proud of myself.

“I, I think I can smell something like…lavender?”

“Yes, that’s the candle on my desk. What else?”

“Uhhh, maybe my hair wax.”

“Good. Now one thing you can taste.”

“How am I supposed to find that out?!”

“Just concentrate. Maybe you had chewing gum earlier. Maybe you can still taste what you had for lunch. It can be anything.”

“Hmmm”, I begin, concentrating on tasting. “I think I can taste the peanut butter sandwich I had at school.”

“Very good. This is all about being aware of yourself and your surroundings. If you find yourself panicking, be it at home or anywhere else, do this exercise. Focus on your surroundings and do it again and again until you can ground yourself; until you regain control over your senses.”

“I guess I could do that. It’s not as stupid as I thought, to be honest.” I admit, grinning.

“That’s nice to hear. The exercise might be easy, but it has proven itself to be successful with a lot of patients.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. And another thing: when you’re at ballet practice, you do stretches and such before to warm up, don’t you?”

“Um, yes. What does that have to do with anything?”

“You should stretch before you go to bed, as well, as a ritual so that your body and mind knows that it’s time to calm down.”

“Like…every night?”

“Yes. Or at least as often as possible. Fifteen minutes will be enough. If you had a particularly stressful day, if you have felt anxious or if you find yourself get lost in bad memories, focus on yourself and try to exercise before you go to sleep. Stretching, yoga, whatever. And…you might not want to hear it, but maybe you shouldn’t drink coffee. The caffeine can make you feel even more jittery.”

“Oh, jeez, really? But I like coffee. I don’t even drink it that often, just when I’m out with Dave sometimes.”

“It’s just an advice.”

xxxxx

When today’s session is over, Dr. Baker calls mom to her office.

“Mrs. Shinoda? Can I talk to you for a while?”

”Of course, Doctor. What’s the matter?” mom asks when she has left the waiting room and she and I take a seat opposite Dr. Baker’s desk.

“Your son has expressed some concerns about increasing psychological issues, and in my opinion it might be time to treat those with anxiety medication, in case there is no improvement in the next three months.”

“Increasing psychological issues? What do you mean exactly?” mom asks, giving me a sideway glance.

“Recurring nightmares, feelings of anxiety and sometimes panic.”

“Is this true, pumpkin?” she asks me, so I nod and keep my eyes on the desk in front of us. “I thought you were happy, Chester. You can tell me when you don’t feel well, you know that.”

“I _am_ happy.” I reply angrily, still refusing to look up.

_I’m not some fucking test animal. I don’t need any pills. I don’t need them and I don’t want them. I’ll just do this meditation shit she has suggested and everything will be fine…the exercise wasn’t THAT stupid, so maybe I should try it sometime?_

“Any thoughts on what has caused this, Doctor? I don’t want him to take pills if it’s not certain that they’ll really work, isn’t there anything else we can do?”

Over the next ten minutes, my therapist explains all the pros and cons of medication, and that the cause of my problems seems to be that my experiences with Dave bring back my childhood trauma, but that a certain level of trust between him and me, plus either anxiety medication or these exercises she has talked to me about could help. _Oh boy…can this conversation get any more uncomfortable?!_

“Over the course of the following three or four months, Chester should follow my advice, and I will observe if there is any improvement of his mental health. If there isn’t any, or if it gets worse, we will have to try medication.”

“I understand.” Mom says, and I know she’s already worrying more than what would be necessary.

I sit quietly next to her, fidgeting with my hands and wishing to go home soon.

xxxxx

The entire ride back home was one endless interrogation about ‘why haven’t you talked to us about this, pumpkin? You know you don’t have to bottle things up, you can tell us when something is not right. Why did you hide those things form us?’, and all that other crap that I have already heard a thousand times. This day has started out so well, but now, all I wanna do is be alone.

After dinner, I went straight to my room, even snapping at Mike to leave me the fuck alone when all he wanted to do was cheer me up and ask if I wanted to play videogames. Since we always talk about the day we’ve had during dinner, mom brought up the conversation with my therapist. I was eating the spaghetti with meatballs in silence while everyone else discussed my mental health as if it _wasn’t_ the most personal thing on earth for me. Yes, normally I like that we talk about everything so openly in my family, but today I just didn’t feel like talking, even though I’m usually the loudest at the dinner table.

Now it’s about quarter to eight, and I plan on spending the rest of the evening alone. Turning my stereo to a high, but tolerable volume, I think about what to do until I go to bed. A little while later I decide to do something I normally do at the very last minute, much to my parents’ displeasure. Homework.

Earlier, I’ve already done the homework that’s due for tomorrow, but now that I’m bored out of my mind, I can do the work that will be due in a couple of days, as well, so I sit down at my desk and read the next ten pages of the novel we’re currently talking about in English class, and even take a few notes. When I’m done with that, I answer all the questions on page 21 in my history book, and later, I even make an attempt on my math homework, hoping that I’m getting all of these terribly difficult equations right. I know that Mike has already done all of the homework we have gotten today after we came home from school, but he’s an over-achiever, anyway. Contrary to him, I take my time with it, getting distracted now and again when I let my mind drift off to what we’ve talked about in therapy today.

_If the meditation crap doesn’t work, would it be that terrible to take a damn pill every morning? And I bet it wouldn’t be forever, it would just be for a few months, right? Mom takes a pill every morning before breakfast for her thyroid dysfunction, and she never complains about it. But I know what my problem is. I wouldn’t have to take medication for something that is wrong with my body, but with my mind. Is my brain that fucked up that I need to cure it with a pill? Wait…Dr. Baker said that these pills don’t cure the anxiety, but only help manage the symptoms. Do I really need that? I’d be so ashamed of having to take medication for my sick brain…And what would Dave think? Should I hide it from him? Or should I tell him the truth?_

My thoughts get interrupted when I hear a knock on the door. It’s dad. _Ah, he and mom must have just returned from their evening walk with Jason._

“Come in!” I say, turning the stereo off. He enters my room, looking visibly confused when he sees me doing homework at this hour.

“I was bored and didn’t know what to do, so I thought I could do something useful.”

“That’s always a good idea. Are you done with everything?”

“Uh, yeah. You don’t have to check it, by the way. I’m not a kid anymore.” I say, smirking.

“Oh, I wasn’t going to. I wanted to ask if you’re okay.”

“Sure…” I say, my mood immediately dropping to zero.

“Care to elaborate?”

“Not really.”

“I understand. But I want you to know that I talked to Donna about this and we’re very worried.”

“You don’t have to be worried, okay? There is nothing to be worried about at all.”

“Your therapist says otherwise.”

“She’s just exaggerating. It’s not that bad, really.”

“Are you sure about that?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Hmhm.” I reply, nodding. “It’s just a few nightmares; nothing I can’t handle.”

“Don’t you think that’s an understatement? You shouldn’t lie about this just because you don’t want us to worry.”

_Dammit. Is it that obvious?_ , I ask myself, chewing on my bottom lip.

“Listen…I, I really don’t wanna talk about this now, okay?”

“Fine. You know that you can always talk to us, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I know.”

Dad and I don’t often have these kinds of talks, but when they do happen, I really feel that he and mom care about me.

“Good night, son.”

“Good night.”

xxxxx

When dad leaves my room, I actually consider going to bed because it’s late for a school night, even though I’m actually a night owl who would like to stay up all night. While I brush my teeth, I consider taking my therapist’s ridiculous advice to do those stupid exercises to calm down before sleep, but I decide against it. Not tonight. I feel fine, and I even have something to look forward to tomorrow.

At the beginning of the school year, we could choose between three different new courses: music, art or theater. Mike’s had a very hard time choosing between music and art, eventually picking art, to no one’s surprise, while I immediately picked theater without giving it a second thought. Mike and I don’t have to do _everything_ together, there are things we just have to do without the other, and I thought that it might be fun. Now every Tuesday after the main subjects are finished, I go to my theater class that consists of about thirty people from grade 11 and 12. I’m really looking forward to Tuesday every week, because for me, theater is just as much fun as ballet.

Mom and dad take us to the local theaters to watch a play once in a while, and last year we even went to the opera once. Now that I think about it, I realize that they really do make an effort to show us lots of different things that I would have never seen if I had never met Mike. He’s not as interested in this whole theater stuff as I am, but somehow, I’m glad that I have found one more thing that is just mine. Now I have two favorite days a week; Tuesday because of my theater class, and Wednesday because of the ballet group and because I always see Dave on that day. I guess being on a stage is just my thing, it…it makes me feel alive, and I’m really considering doing something like that after graduating high school, even though I haven’t talked about this to anyone yet.

Yes, the school year has only just started, but I know that my theater class will have a performance at the end of the year, and I’ll do anything to get the leading male role, whatever it takes. Of course there will also be the performance of my ballet group, plus all the exams, but I prefer not to think about this yet. I can already hear dad telling me that studying for exams is more important than rehearsing for the play and the ballet performance, but I’ll show him that I can do all these things at once.

xxxxx

Three weeks later, life has gotten a little stressful. It has turned out that I actually _can’t_ do that many things at once. There was a surprise test in math class last week that I totally didn’t see coming, and today our teacher graded these tests and handed them back to us. Mike and I wisely decided that we’d only tell mom and dad about the test once we’ve gotten the results, but now I’m not so sure about telling them about it at all.

_I don’t wanna go home. Not today. I can’t show them this grade…_

We have tests in two other subjects coming up this week, which means I really should start to study, but so far, I haven’t done anything, and it’s already Tuesday. The school year is in full swing, and while Mike easily manages everything, just like he always does, I’m having trouble keeping up in class. It’s not as if I weren’t smart enough, no, it’s just that I do too many things in a week that I have no time to study. Usually, when Mike and I come home from school, we do our homework before dinner, and then we have free time for the rest of the evening. Mike actually spends a part of this time with doing the homework he couldn’t finish before dinner, while I hastily do this the next morning on the bus. The times when I actually do all the homework at home are exceptions, if I’m being honest to myself.

Contrary to Mike, I don’t do much for school during the weekends, but I know I should. Most times, I only do the absolute minimum, and I’m fine with that. I push those worries to the back of my mind, though, because there are so many other activities! Fun things that don’t have anything to do with math or any other boring subjects. Mike’s week is so much more organized than mine... He’s just like dad – dutifully doing work, and only after work is done, there’s time for fun.

Mike’s week is organized, mine is chaotic. Mom and dad have talked to me about working harder for school more than once, but I keep making promises and then do the exact opposite. In fact, Mike and I have the exact same amount of free time every week, but he’s just better at motivating himself to study. During the week, we go to school until early afternoon, we both work twice a week to earn a bit of money, and the time I spend at ballet, he spends with painting and drawing. We spend about the same amount of time with our boyfriend and girlfriend and our other friends, since we mostly meet all together. The only exception in my week is therapy, which takes about an hour for the session itself, but the drive to and from Dr. Baker’s office takes quite a long while. It’s only twice a month, so that’s not really an excuse, as my parents would say.

That sounds like a lot, but it’s actually not. We still have time for just being at home. Okay, Mike is home more often than I am, because since I do need some quiet and alone time sometimes, I often go for endless walks with Jason, just so I have time to think and organize my mind. When I took him to the dog park last weekend, we only returned home after half a day. Mom and dad accused me of doing everything to avoid studying, but I successfully blamed it on the dog, saying that he just has a lot of energy, and how much fun he had with the other dogs in the park. So yes, if I planned my week differently and listened to my parents, I would have more than enough time to study. The point is: I just don’t want to.

Anyway, the math test caught Mike and me both by surprise, so he got a C+, which still was the best grade of the whole course, while I got a…well, you can imagine.

When we come home that day and mom asks us how school has been, we say what we always say; it was fine, nothing unusual. We know that we have to tell her the truth about the math test, but we decide to wait until dinner when dad comes home from work, because what use is there in having to make the same, awful confession twice?

xxxxx

“So how was school today, boys?” dad asks while we enjoy mashed sweet potatoes with veggies.

Mike and I share a look that mom doesn’t miss.

“I _knew_ there was something up when I asked you that same question earlier. What is it?”

We know from experience that immediately telling the truth is better than stalling, so Mike says what has to be said.

“We, uh…there was a surprise math test last week.”

“Really, really surprising.” I say to myself as I stick my fork into a piece of zucchini.

“ _Last week_?! And you’re telling us about it now?”

“Sorry, dad.” Mike apologizes for both of us.

I can clearly see that dad wants to say something about how it wasn’t right to wait for a whole week to tell them about the test, but instead, he calms down and says:

“It’s okay. I assume you weren’t that prepared, then?”

“Not really, no.” I reply as Mike shakes his head.

“What does that mean exactly?”

“Well…listen…I don’t know how to say this…”

“Just show us your tests.” mom interrupts me, sighing because she knows it can’t be good when we’re making such a fuss about it.

Quickly, Mike and I get up to grab our tests out of our backpacks that are still in the hallway, and return to the table. Mike shows them his piece of paper first, while I start squirming on my chair. I’ve never had such a bad grade. Ever. But then again, it was a surprise test and I wasn’t the only one in class who was less than not prepared.

“What were you so worried about, Michael? A C+ is good, and you know you’ll get a better grade when you study.” mom tells him. “Yeah, I know…I just wish I knew there was a test coming…” Mike complains.

_Oh God dammit, the over achiever is upset because he didn’t get the A+ he usually gets_ , I think as jealousy fills my heart.

“So, Chester, what about you?”

Wordlessly, I slide my catastrophic test across the table, because there’s nothing to say, anyway. Mom and dad need only a quick look to see that the aggressive red scribbling in the upper right corner of my test is a big, fat ‘F’, and for a few seconds, nobody says anything. Mike has decided to eat the remains of his mashed potatoes whilst making as little noise as possible, and I’m sitting here, waiting for either mom or dad to speak. Of course it’s dad who speaks up first.

“What is this?!” he asks, holding this disaster of a math test in his right hand.

“I told you I was surprised.” I reply, hoping that a bit of humor can brighten the mood.

“Chester, how did this happen?”

I barely passed math last year, and this year is already starting out terribly, so I just shrug my shoulders and say nothing.

Look, the whole class has bad grades in that test.” Mike starts to defend me. “Mine was actually the best, the rest of us is way worse.”

_Wait, what kind of tactic is that? Is he trying to make me look bad?!_

“And that teacher doesn’t like me, anyway.” I mumble.

“You cannot blame everything on the teachers.” mom says. “Because most times, when you fail an exam, it’s your own fault, and nobody else’s.”

“But it wasn’t an exam, it was just a stupid test! It probably even won’t go into the final grade!” I say, defensively raising my voice.

“Chester, this is not good.” dad says. “I know that you’re not the best at math, and that’s okay. You’re good at many other subjects, but…haven’t we told you all summer that you should catch up on what you were supposed to learn in the previous schoolyear? You’ve had more than enough time for this, young man.”

“I’m sorry…” I mumble quietly.

_He’s right. During the entire time we were grounded, my parents have told me to catch up on a few things, and they’ve told Mike to help me, but we’ve always found excuses not to waste our time with math._

“Sorry doesn’t cut it this time.”

“Stop it, Muto, of course it does.” Mom interrupts.

_I really wonder where she gets this endless patience she has with us…_

“What he tries to say is…you really have to work harder for school, pumpkin. And I’m not only talking about math.”

“But most of the others failed the test, too! I’m not the only one with an F! It’s this stupid teacher that makes us take tests that are too fucking hard!”

“Hey, language!” dad says in that warning tone that Mike and I know very well.

“I do not care what the others do! Take school seriously, already.” Mom adds, still trying her best to be patient. “And stop blaming it on the teachers.”

“I’m not gonna need math later in life, anyway!” I argue, getting up from the table.

We’ve already had dozens of conversations about me not taking school seriously enough, so mom just sighs, telling Mike to help her clear the table and load the dishwasher. As expected, dad tells me that he wants to talk to me in the living room.

xxxxx

Fifteen minutes later, I storm up the stairs into my room and toss my backpack into a corner. Fine, the conversation could have gone worse, but I’m still not happy with the result.

_“Tell me, Chester…what do you do all week that you don’t find the time to at least do a little bit more for school? Michael doesn’t have these kinds of problems.”_

_“Well I guess he’s just smarter than me.” I reply angrily._

_“You know that’s not true. You’re both equally smart.”_

_“Yeah, whatever…”_

_“Hey, look at me.”_

_“What do you want? It was just a test. Nothing important. I don’t get why you and mom always make such a big deal about school.”_

_“Because we care about your future! You don’t seem to care at all, and that’s what worries us!”_

_“What? That’s not true, I do care! I just don’t give a shit about math.”_

_“Well, it’s part of school, so you’ll have to care.”_

_“But I’m just not good at it! I can’t wrap my head around numbers and equations and all that stuff.”_

_“I am not asking you to be good at it. All I’m asking for is that you start taking school seriously and study for exams. I’ve been trying for years to get you to understand that. And this is not about the test, it’s about the general situation. So, back to my question: what do you do all week? I know I’m home late every day, and your mom has been trying to not get involved with your and Michael’s schoolwork because we thought you’re old enough to take care of that on your own, but you need to make time for studying, do you understand me?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“So?”_

_I let out a long, dramatic sigh before I tell him everything that makes me unable to find time for homework and studying, and when I’m finished, he looks really mad. Okay, I guess I can’t blame him…_

_“Here’s what’s going to happen: you will show me or Donna your homework every day, and you’ll tell us about upcoming test and exams – “_

_“Oh, dad, come on, I’m not in elementary school! You’re overreacting!” I shout, getting up from the couch._

_“Don’t you dare argue about this, young man. If you would have taken school seriously, this wouldn’t have happened and you know it.” he says in a strict tone that convinces me to sit back down immediately. “Now, are there any upcoming tests? Yes or no?”_

_“Yes.” I admit, focusing on the pattern of the rug under the couch we’re sitting on._

_“When?”_

_“Don’t get angry, okay?”_

_“I asked when.”_

_“Uhh, this week. Thursday and Friday.”_

_“Excuse me? It’s already Tuesday evening!”_

_“Yeah, I know…”_

_“Well, have you studied?”_

_“Not yet, to be honest.”_

_“Jesus, Chester, are you kidding me?”_

_“I just didn’t have time yet!”_

_“Oh, please, you have more than enough time outside of school. Has Michael studied yet?”_

_“God dammit, you don’t have to compare us all the fucking time!”_

_“_ _I am not comparing you! I’m just asking if – “_

_"I don’t know. Ask him.” I snap, crossing my arms across my chest._

_“Michael! Come here, please!” he shouts in the general direction of the kitchen before he mutters something in Japanese under his breath, and I could swear he just cursed._

So that’s how I ended up in my room for the rest of the evening. It’s not like I had nothing to do; no. There’s a biology test on Thursday, and an easy vocabulary test in Spanish class on Friday. Nothing I couldn’t handle. So I find myself sprawled out on my bed, reading page after page in my science book, taking notes and, for the first time in a long while, seriously preparing myself for a test. In recent years, since Mike and I started doing homework alone in our rooms instead of doing it together at the kitchen table with mom checking on us every now and then, I’ve never really prepared myself for any test. I always got decent grades without any preparation, and it’s always been good enough in my opinion, but dad made it clear that he expects more now.

_“Listen to me, son. You will study every day until you have caught up on the stuff you didn’t learn last year, and you will also work more for the other subjects, not only for math.”_

_“So you’re basically telling me that I’m never gonna have any free time again?” I ask, already pissed off about the whole situation._

_“Now you’re the one who’s overreacting. You still can go to ballet and to your job, and if you do find the time you can go to the youth center once a week, but the rest will be strictly at home, understood?”_

_“What? No! Come on, that’s not necessary!” I instantly disagree._

_“I decide what’s necessary and what’s not. Your mother and I will not tolerate another ‘F’, and – “_

_“Fucking hell, it was a SURPRISE test! I would have gotten a different grade if I had known there was a test coming!”_

_“First of all, don’t yell at me, and second of all, if you want to spend any time outside in the next few weeks, you better quit using this kind of language.” he says in a tone that is equally calm and dangerous._

Damn, I better shut up now…

_“I mean it, Chester. If you don’t start taking school more seriously, I might have to reconsider the Friday night arrangement.”_

_“Dad, no, you – you can’t do that!”_

_“Then sit your butt down and study, am I clear?”_

_“Yep…” I reply reluctantly, sighing over-dramatically and rolling my eyes._

I went upstairs after that, grumbling to myself how unfair all this is, and then I slammed the hell out of my door. Now, I’m still on edge, so I slam the science book shut and turn on my back, angrily staring at the ceiling. I hate wasting my time with school. I could meet Dave in all the time I’m going to have to sit at home and study…if only I were as organized and ambitious as Mike, I’d be able to have time for both studying and meeting Dave.

Mike is such a lucky bastard…he can see his girlfriend whenever and wherever he wants…I wish I had that, too. I wish Dave’s parents came around and accepted us the way my parents accept us. Okay, dad needed a while, but by now he really likes Dave. He says he has a good influence on me…whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean. The way dad stayed so calm during our conversation earlier was fucking infuriating…I mean, I really appreciate that he’s not scolding us for every grade that’s below a B, like he used to some years ago, but I just hate being told what to do.

As I lie here, successfully avoiding to prepare myself any further for the test, a million thoughts race through my brain. Maybe I shouldn’t study in this state of mind. Trying to focus while I’m angry has never worked for me. Maybe, just maybe, I should try this stupid exercise my therapist showed me; she said it can be beneficial in lots of situations, not only when I’m having an anxiety attack. Oh, speaking of anxiety: it’s been getting slightly better lately, in my opinion. Although I didn’t follow her advice to do this absolutely ridiculous meditation stuff, I did do stretches almost every night to calm myself down before sleep, and I think it worked. The nightmares didn’t occur that often; only twice in the last three weeks. Also, Dave and I keep building trust in those late Friday nights we spend in the privacy of my room, exploring things with each other that we feel more and more safe with by now. There’s been only one incident while I was making out with him, and I really hope that there won’t be any more incidents.

I still feel anxious in many situations, though, but I hope I’ll be able fight the panic and anxiety without having to take pills…

There’s so much stress and pressure on my mind in these recent weeks…stress about being good enough for Dave, stress about being the best in my ballet group, stress about doing well at school, or at least doing well enough to pass, and stress about hiding how bad it’s actually going at school right now. Well, I guess the math test was the last straw, at least for mom and dad, so now I’ll have to actually do something.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a moment before I go back to studying. Dad said that hard work pays off, and even though I only have very little time to prepare for both tests, I’ll show him that I can do it.

xxxxx

**Thanks for reading.**


	32. Chapter 32

Thank god, it’s Friday. Finally. These past few days couldn’t possibly have been longer. I’ve been studying my ass off for the two tests in this week, and I think it was worth it. I knew the answer to almost every question on the biology test, and the vocabulary test today didn’t go so bad, either. I went to ballet on Wednesday, then came home and studied; I worked a few hours on Thursday, and before that, I studied. Ugh, I hate doing more than what’s absolutely necessary for school… At least today, after I come home from my pizza delivery job, it’s movie night again. Fucking hell, I need a break. I couldn’t even go to the youth center because of all that studying and because I had switched my pizza shift with a co-worker. Hopefully I’ll get decent grades in both of the tests…

Usually, I would relax for the entire weekend now, but there’s still this tiny math problem, which is why Mike and I will spend the majority of our time with revising what I haven’t learned in the previous school year. I already know that it’s going to take months for me to learn all that stuff. At the same time, Mike’s gonna help me with what we’re currently doing in math class, and that’s gonna suck ass, because I’ll be constantly reminded of how much better he is at school. Mom and dad say that I could be equally good if I just put more effort into it. Maybe they’re right, but I’m not completely convinced.

xxxxx

The next day, on Saturday night, I went to bed early. This morning after Dave and Anna went back home, Mike and I started revising math until it was lunchtime, and then afterwards, we had a short break, taking Jason to the dog park for an hour. When we came back home, we continued doing math until it was dinner time. I was unusually quiet at the dinner table, my mind spinning when I realized how much I had to catch up on. Yes, it’s true that it’s easier for me to understand math when it’s just me and Mike instead of me being one of 25 students and an unmotivated teacher who knows that half of the class won’t pass, anyway, but…oh boy, Mike can be one hell of a strict teacher.

Whenever I said ‘God dammit, can we take a break?’ or ‘I just don’t get it!’, he pushed me even more. I hate it, and I know that over the course of the next few weeks, every fucking day will be like this. I swear, the older Mike gets, the more he becomes like dad. He doesn’t know it yet, but I can clearly see it. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, though.

Now it’s 10 PM on a Saturday night, and I’m already in bed. My brain has had enough math for today. After dinner, Mike and I went to our rooms; Mike with the intention to paint, and I with the intention to listen to music while writing in my diary. At some point I decided to actually follow my therapist’s advice and do my daily stretching exercises before bed, and now, after twenty fucking minutes of stretching, I’m lying here, trying to calm down my still hyper-active brain.

I think back to last night, when I shared my bed with my boyfriend. We’re still trying to go slow, but by now we feel much more comfortable with each other than in the beginning, which also means that we’re starting to go further than harmless over-the-clothes-touching. We slept naked last night, like…completely naked! It was amazing, I felt like a grown-up in a real relationship. Before we went to sleep, we did something we had actually never done before. It was even better than I had imagined, so we did it again this morning. Just like last night, we took turns so that it was him first, and then me.

Although we haven’t had real sex yet, it doesn’t get boring with Dave, because there are so many other things we’re exploring. It’s not that we don’t want to have real sex, it’s just that we’re both kind of scared to do it. I’m hesitating because of the obvious reasons, and he’s hesitant because he doesn’t want to hurt me. At least that’s what he said. I know he wants to do more, but he’s trying hard to be patient with me, which I really appreciate.

What would it be like to have real sex with a guy? Like…consensually? I still remember what it felt like when it’s forced, and that’s a feeling I don’t ever want to experience again. Just the memory makes me want to puke. But…what if we both want it? Who would be the one…well…on top? And who would be the one on bottom? I think about this so often, and I haven’t found an answer yet. I only know one thing: when the time has come, I don’t want it to hurt. I want it to feel nice. I want it to be a good memory; one that makes the bad memories go away.

As I lie here, thinking about future intimacies with my boyfriend, I can hear the voice in the back of my head. It starts slowly, quietly like it always does, but quickly, the voice becomes louder. It tries to convince me that what Dave and I do is wrong. The voice blames me for being weak in my childhood, for not fighting back enough, for letting those terrible things happen to me. Soon, the voice takes over my thoughts; it forces the positive part of my mind in the background, and pushes all the doubts and fears and negativity to the front. Doubt and fear, that’s all I can think about now.

What if Dave loses his patience with me? What if it goes too slow for him and he just decides to take what he wants from me? What if one day, he takes advantage of the trust I have in him, and hurts me? What if he does to me what Steven did? What if I’m not strong enough to fight back? I’m weak. Weak, weak, weak.

_‘Shut up, boy!’ he yelled at me when I screamed. ‘Fucking take it, you pussy!’ he said when I struggled to get away from him; ‘Hold the fuck still or it will hurt more next time!’; ‘Stop crying like a fucking girl!’._

It always hurt more the next time. I never learned to block out the pain, but eventually, I learned to shut up and take it quietly, praying that he would be done soon. Praying that he would leave me alone, but he never did. There are days, weeks even when I don’t waste a single thought on what happened for the last time four years, ten months, two weeks and one day ago. Then there are times like these, when I lie awake at night, thinking about it non-stop, unable to keep the voice in my head away. I’ll always remember the first time it happened, and I’ll always remember the last time. As the memories keep forcing themselves into my mind, my breathing speeds up and my chest feels too tight.

_Okay, you know what to do. Breathe, breathe, breathe_. I tell myself before I lose my ability to think clearly. _What did your therapist say? Do the exercise to become aware of your surroundings. Why haven’t you done the exercise? Why haven’t you followed her advice? You thought it would be stupid, didn’t you? Thought you’d be able to stop the panic by yourself? Hu? You lied to her during the last appointment. You lied and said you had done the exercise, but you hadn’t. She’s smart. She’s a therapist and knows when people don’t tell the truth. She caught you in a lie and you made up a stupid excuse. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Can’t do anything right, boy._

Frantically, my hand searches for the switch of the bedside lamp. I need light. Not darkness. When I finally find the light-switch, I inhale and exhale a few times, concentrating on my breathing in order to start the exercise my therapist already told me to do weeks ago.

_Okay, five things you can see_. Easy: desk, chair, wall, dresser, lamp. _Four things you can feel_. I can feel a lot of things. I feel fear. Panic. Anxiety. Desperation. More fear. But that’s not what the exercise is about. _Not what you feel on the inside, you idiot!_ _What can you touch? What can you feel with your hands?_ I sit up in bed, letting my hands feel over various surfaces nearby. Soft blanket, wooden bedside table, hard wall and the squishy stress ball that I keep in the drawer. _Good. Now three things you can hear. Fucking hell, it’s NIGHT! I can’t hear anything in here! It’s fucking quiet at night!_ _Okay, okay, don’t panic now_. I can hear the TV from downstairs. Mom and dad are probably watching a movie. I focus on hearing more sounds, but it’s really hard to make something out. Mike is probably still painting, which is why I don’t hear anything from the room next to mine. Otherwise, I’d hear him snoring through the wall. Wait, was that an owl outside? I think it was. Okay, that’s already two things I can hear. TV and owl. What’s the third? I close my eyes and listen. Does my own breathing count? _Sure it does, you idiot._ TV, owl, breathing. That’s three.

Good, don’t get distracted now. _What are two things you can smell?_ It smells like old, dirty socks in here; I should probably open a window…but what else can I smell, apart from old socks? What else, what else, what else?! I can smell my pillow. Yes, good idea. It smells like Dave’s shampoo, and that thought makes me happy. Now to the last sense. _Be aware of your surroundings, focus on your environment, not on your feelings. What’s one thing you can taste_? Oh, that’s easy: Toothpaste.

I repeat the exercise two more times until I have successfully grounded myself, but for the first time in years, I sleep with the light on. Breathing in and out slowly, I close my eyes, falling into a dreamless sleep. The next morning when I wake up, I feel ashamed of myself for sleeping with the lamp switched on, and I’m angry at myself for not being able to get these negative thoughts under control. _Why do I have to be like this? I don’t understand…he’s the enemy in my head, the demon I’m fighting, and he just won’t leave me alone…_

For a few minutes, I just lie in bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to make sense of my psycho brain. Grabbing my diary and my favorite pen from the drawer next to the bed, I write down a few lines that came to me just then.

_I wanna be in another place_

_I hate when you say You don’t understand_

_I wanna be in the energy_

_Not with the enemy_

_A place for my head_

_You try to take the best of me_

_Go away_

_You try to take the best of me_

_Go away_

_You try to take the best of me_

_Go away_

_You try to take the best of me_

_GO AWAY!_

I put the pen down, reading and rereading what I wrote, quietly singing it to myself until I find a melody that fits.

xxxxx

Three weeks later, I have done the mindfulness exercise almost every night. Yes, I admit I thought it was stupid at first, but now I think that it could actually help me. I even talked to my therapist about the first time I did it at home, and she said I should be proud of myself for fighting through a panic attack all on my own, and on actually doing the five-senses-exercise after weeks of not even considering the idea that it could be beneficial for my mental health. Also, she’s told me to talk about my issues more openly with my parents, which I did…sort of. I’m being more honest about it than in the previous months, but I’m still not too honest, because I don’t want them to worry. I even did the exercise in my head while I was at school and found myself drifting into negative thoughts during a boring history lesson. I think it makes me feel more relaxed in general when I take some time to focus on my surroundings and just calm the fuck down once in a while. I even think that these exercises have helped me focus better when I study. I’d never tell that to anyone, though.

Oh, speaking of studying. I got the results of the two tests, and I was surprised to have pretty good grades in both of them. Of course, Mike had better grades, but my therapist says that I should find a way to let go of the jealousy I sometimes feel about Mike’s success at school. Plus, I know that mom and dad are equally proud of him and me. My free time has been reduced to a minimum, however. There hasn’t been a single day without revising math with Mike after school. I think he’s even enjoying helping me, because we both see some progress already. I have to admit that he’s a really good teacher and that I finally understood some of the stuff that I haven’t understood last school year. If only mom and dad weren’t so strict about studying every fucking day, that would be nice.

The only time I can get away from all of this is Wednesdays during ballet practice. I can totally let go of all my thoughts when I dance; my mind is empty then, free of stress and pressure. Plus, I get to check out Dave’s cute ass then, and we have some time to talk and sometimes even kiss when the lesson is over. Last week, we shared a secret kiss in front of the unisex bathroom of the ballet studio because we thought we were alone and all the girls were in the changing area.

As it turned out, we weren’t alone. We were just done with a slow and pretty innocent kiss, and then I gave him a quick peck on the lips one last time before we went to join the others in the changing room. Turning into the direction of the doorway, we saw one of the younger girls staring at us, obviously torn between shocked and intrigued by seeing two guys kiss. All of us avoided eye contact, not saying a word as Dave and I passed her and changed clothes in silence, knowing that if we looked at each other, we’d burst out laughing, which we did once we were outside. Oh boy, what an uncomfortable situation, but I guess we have to get used to getting strange looks from people.

As I said, ballet practice is the only time during the week when I can truly relax from all the stress that working for school gives me. I hate that I don’t have as much free time anymore as I used to have. It’s school, homework, and delivering pizza twice a week. The only thing that’s really fun at school is my theater group that I’m getting more and more involved in. I need a vacation, or something else that helps me break out of this routine. Yes, in some weeks, I manage to go to the youth center once or even twice a week, and I still make an effort to be the one who takes Jason for a long walk or spend a few hours in the dog park with him, but I need something different. I need to have fun, I need to do something that is so wrong and so unreasonable that it gives me a real adrenaline rush.

Like what Mike and I did last year with the graffiti and running from cops. _That_ was fun. Yes, there’s always Friday night when Mike, Anna, Dave and I have this house to ourselves, but I want something that’s even more fun.

Well, at least there’s supposed to be a party at Brad’s parents’ house next Saturday night. They obviously don’t know there’ll be a party, because they’ll be visiting old friends for the whole weekend, leaving their son at home because they think he’s old enough to be responsible…if only they knew. It will be our first house party, and since we’re all good friends, we promised Brad to help him clean up the house on Sunday, so that his parents won’t notice anything when they return home.

xxxxx

One week later, the day of the party has finally come. The previous week has been really eventful. Both good and bad things have happened, and I’m more than ready to have a break from all the drama. On Monday, I was actually looking forward to therapy because I had enough of studying for the upcoming math exam, and I was just stressed out of my mind. I had also kind of misbehaved at school that day, being disrespectful to that stupid P.E. teacher when he said I throw the ball like a girl. Fucking asshole. He’s the one being disrespectful; always making mean comments when one of the students is bad at something. I cursed at him and he made me do 25 push-ups, saying that the next time I’m out of line he’ll give me detention, but I won’t let him intimidate me.

On Tuesday, it turned out that my theater group at school will take a field trip to see a musical, which I’m really excited about. On Wednesday, the math exam had arrived, but I was well prepared this time. If I’m lucky, I might even get a C or something like that. Later that day after ballet practice, Dave announced that his parents are finally open to getting to know me. Maybe they’re starting to accept that Dave can be catholic and gay at the same time? Anyway, on Thursday, I’ve had a huge fight with mom and dad about school, when they said that just because the first math exam of the school year is now done, I still have to study regularly to not lose track again. I’ve yelled a lot and I’ve said some things I shouldn’t have, risking our Friday night event once again. The situation got even worse when Mike took our parents’ side; I’ve never felt so betrayed by him. In the end it turned out fine, though; we made up and I had to give in.

However, when Mike and I went upstairs that evening and he kept teasing me about the fight with mom and dad, not stopping to call me a drama queen when I told him to stop, a short brawl broke out between him and me, which I won, fortunately. We used to brawl a lot when we were younger, fighting over stupid things like whose turn it was to play as Mario, and who had to play as Luigi when we played video games. In recent years, though, we haven’t fought as much anymore as we used to. We didn’t fight because we were mad at each other or something; no, we did it because it was fun to see who was stronger. A simple disagreement over who was right or wrong could lead to a brawl on the carpet, only to be resolved when one of us surrendered. So two days ago when I came home from my pizza delivery job, a little tired and wanting to just be alone and pout over the argument with mom and dad, Mike was annoying the hell out of me as we went upstairs together.

xxxxx

_“What, drama queen? Are you still mad about earlier?”_

_“Firstly, you took their side! And secondly, shut the fuck up and don’t call me that!”_

_“What? Are you offended?!”_

_“I just don’t like it when you call me that. So shut up about it.”_

_“Drama queen, drama queen!” he sings, fully intending on pissing me off._

_“I said stop it!” I snap at him when he follows me into my room._

_When Mike doesn’t stop calling me by the nickname I hate the most, I see only one option. We haven’t done this in a few months, but what is a better opportunity to let off some steam than a good brawl on the floor? I’m gonna win, anyway. I win most times. Before he even knows what’s happening, I have taken off my glasses, placed them on my bedside table, snatched a pillow, and hit him in the face with said pillow. He quickly recovers from the hit and wrestles me down to the floor._

_“You wanna fight?” he asks, grinning and taking his own glasses off._

_He places them next to mine and waits for my answer. Now it’s all a bit blurry for both of us, but that’s the way we always fight._

_“Hell, yeah. Fight me, if you can.”_

_And so we end up wrestling on the carpet that covers most of the floor in my room, continuing our bickering argument. Unbeknownst to mom and dad who are watching a movie downstairs, Mike and I solve the differences that have been between us lately. We’ve been drifting apart somehow, and haven’t felt like the brothers and best friends we actually are._

_“You never tell me anything anymore!” Mike says while he presses my face into the carpet, but I regain power in the next moment as I flip the situation around._

_“What do you mean? I tell you everything!”_

_“No, you fucking don’t.” he argues, elbowing me hard enough in the rips that I let go of him, but not hard enough to actually hurt me. We never seriously hurt each other when we fight like this; I guess it’s more like grappling._ _“You haven’t said a single word about the nightmares returning and the anxiety getting worse. I only found out when mom told us after she had picked you up from therapy!”_

So that’s what this is about _, I think as I kick and struggle my way out of his hold on me._ This was weeks ago, and he’s been upset about it all this time?

_I quickly regain the upper hand as I place my knee on the small of his back so that he can’t get back up easily. Yes, we might have spent a lot of time together lately because he’s been helping me with math, but he’s right, something has been off between us._

_“The only reason why I didn’t tell you or mom and dad about this was that I didn’t want you to worry, god dammit! I didn’t want to…to…I don’t know…be a burden or something.”_

_“What kind of a stupid reason is that? We used to talk about everything but now I never know if you’re actually okay or if you’re just putting on an act!” he argues, using the fact that I’m not pressing my knee down as hard as before to his advantage._

_In a matter of seconds, I’m on my back, pressing my arms against his as we compare our strengths. One thing is certain; we don’t fight like pussies, we fight like men, even though we try to not hurt the other too much._

_“I’m sorry, okay? I swear, the anxiety has happened less often since I do the mindfulness exercise!”_

_“The what exercise?”_

_I explain the exercise, promise that I haven’t had a single nightmare in the previous two weeks, and we talk it all out as we continue to wrestle. I’m currently on my belly, about to lose the fight when he holds my upper arms down from behind, but I kick him in the butt so that he falls off of my back and lands face first in the pillow I hit him with earlier. As quickly as possible, I sit on the small of his back with my whole weight to hold him down, and attempt to grab his arms, but he’s using fists and elbows to defend himself. Eventually, I get a hold of them and twist them behind his back._

_“See? I told you I would win!” I say, leaning forward to avoid being kicked._

_“You think you’re winning, you dork?” he asks, although it’s pretty clear that if he doesn’t get out of my hold in the next few seconds, I’ll be the winner._

_“You’re the only dork here!”_

_“No, you!” he argues._

_“No, you!” I bring one of his arms closer to his shoulders, knowing that he usually can’t reach there and that it probably hurts him a little._

_“Fuck, stop it! Okay, I surrender!”_

_I immediately let go of him, not wanting to hurt him more than what is necessary during a brawl. We probably both got a few bruises, but at least the air is cleared now and there’s no more tension between us. I might be really skinny and a little smaller than Mike, but that doesn’t mean I’m not strong enough to win a fight with him_. _Doing ballet really has improved my balance and helped me to get more in shape._

xxxxx

I snap out of my memories as I think of the rest of the week. When Friday had come, Mike and I were in such a good mood that mom and dad even asked us if something was going on, so we claimed to only be excited for the weekend and for the movie night with our girlfriend and boyfriend. School that day went by quickly, and even though I couldn’t go to the youth center that day before our movie night, the day was great. Mike and I did our homework together and I finally understood some of that integral equation shit we currently do at math class. Our parents said that we’ve both been working so hard for school that we have the entire weekend off once all the homework is done, so that the moment that they leave for their hotel and restaurant date night, our weekend has officially started.

Movie night was great, just like it always is; we watched a movie, ate the delicious food that mom had cooked for us earlier that day, had a lot of fun and later Dave and I went to my room while Mike and Anna went to his room. Things between Dave and me are great, by the way. I’m so nervous about meeting his parents next week, but he keeps telling me to relax, and that they have become a little more open-minded.

Anyway, now is finally Saturday, the day of the party at Brad’s parents’ house. After Dave and Anna had gone home for a few hours, Mike and I went to the skatepark, finally spending some time together that didn’t involve math or homework in any form. It feels nice to have the whole weekend off, and I seriously can’t wait to graduate school, even though it still is a while until then. Mike and I took Jason the dog with us, spending the whole day outside, even though it’s starting to get a little colder; Christmas is just around the corner.

We came home at around 6 PM. The party is going to start at 8, and Anna and Dave will pick us up so that we can all go together, since Brad lives just a few minutes away from our house.

“Mooooom, we’re home!” we call as we come in with a dirty dog that has jumped into a puddle and was very hard to convince to come out again.

“Finally.” she says, joining us in the hallway. “I was beginning to wonder where you’ve been all day.”

“At the skate park.” Mike answers.

“And then at the dog park.” I add, asking myself if I’ll have enough time to dress up before the party.

“Okay. But just so you know, one of you is going to have to clean the dog and then the floor.” she reminds us.

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Mike asks me, so we play to decide who has to do the cleaning.

“Oh come on, Mike! How do you always win this game? This sucks!” I complain, stressing about having enough time to get ready.

As we continue to argue, dad joins us, immediately seeing that Mike and I are having one of our famous arguments about something unimportant.

“Mike, please? You know that I need to get ready, and that I take way more time than you in the bathroom! Can’t you do it? Just this once?”

“Ugh, fine. But you owe me.”

“Okay, okay…”

“Hey, wait.” dad interrupts us. “Are you two going anywhere? Dinner is almost ready.”

Mike and I look at each other; crap, we forgot to tell them about the party.

“Uh, yeah. There’s a party at Brad’s place tonight.”

“Do his parents know about this?” mom asks.

“Not exactly…they’re gone all weekend.” Mike admits, deciding that telling the truth is better than lying.

“And you didn’t think to tell us about this beforehand?”

“I, I guess we just forgot to tell you, sorry. But it’s already planned, Anna and Dave will be here in like 90 minutes to pick us up, dad.” I reply.

Mom and dad exchange a look, sighing. They promised to give us more freedom, but I realize that we really should have told them about going out tonight. Dad looks as if he’s mentally debating with himself whether he should allow us go there, or not.

“Okay, you can go.” he eventually decides while mom is nodding.

“Thanks, dad!” we say in unison, and before our parents can say anything else, Mike disappears in the downstairs bathroom to wash our muddy dog that had way too much fun outside, and I make my way upstairs to get ready for the party.

Almost 30 minutes later, I have taken a quick shower, brushed my teeth, removed the black nail polish and repainted my nails with the shiny silver one I bought last week, and now I find myself standing in front of my closet in fresh underwear and socks, staring at the jeans, t-shirts and sweaters I have, wondering if I should wear sneakers or boots tonight and which outfit would be appropriate for my very first party. It’s might not be at a club, only at a house, but everyone we know is gonna be there, and Joe will be the one taking photos because that’s one of his biggest hobbies.

Mike comes upstairs, passing my room and asking something about when I’ll be done.

“I don’t knooow! I have nothing to wear!” I complain, gesturing at the open closet.

Mike stops in his tracks, rolling his eyes at me. He enters my room and reaches into the closet before he throws one of my t-shirts at me.

“Are you sure?” I ask, eyeing the t-shirt skeptically.

“Listen, Chaz, I don’t care.”

“But what if it doesn’t match my shoes?”

“What does it matter? We’re just gonna meet our friends!”

“That’s not gonna stop me from wanting to dress up, Mr. I-wear-cargo-pants-every-day!”

“Look, if you don’t want me to call you a drama queen, you _really_ should stop making such a fuss about your wardrobe.”

“Oh, screw you!” I reply jokingly, throwing the t-shirt back at him.

“No, screw you! Nobody cares what you wear.” he says, smirking at me.

“Dave cares!”

“You know what? Wear whatever you want. They’ll be here soon.”

“But I haven’t even done my hair yet!”

“God dammit, Chester, just get ready!”

I stick my tongue out to him, snatching the t-shirt back and putting it on. He leaves my room, sighing and muttering something under his breath that I can’t hear. Okay, now I only need to find matching pants, shoes, a jacket and maybe some accessory. Plus, I have to style my hair and spike it to perfection. I wanna look good for Dave tonight.

Another thirty minutes later, I finally found an outfit and I’m almost done with my hair. When I finished spiking my short brown curls into something that looks a little wilder, I wash my hands and look in the mirror, wondering if I chose the right outfit. I’m wearing black baggy pants and a tight black t-shirt with a few stripes that match my painted nails. The silver studded belt that I spent most of my allowance on last month is a real eye-catcher, at least I hope so. I’ll just wear my black sneakers, and for the way over to the party, which will take only about ten minutes, my dark blue jacket will be enough.

Oh! The doorbell rings! I quickly apply deodorant and then make my way downstairs.

“Finally, Chaz!” Mike says to me as he goes into the bathroom to himself.

I open the door, already excited for tonight. It’s Dave, and I guess Anna will be here soon, as well. He’s carrying a small overnight bag because Mike and I live closer to Brad than he does, which is why both he and Anna will sleep here again.

“You look good.” Dave tells me before we’re sharing a quick kiss.

“You, too.”

For a few minutes, we just stand in the hallway, talking and laughing about the upcoming party. I’m surprised that his parents let him go, but he said that he talked to them and even his dad is loosening up a little. He doesn’t even have to go to church with them tomorrow morning; I wonder how he talked them into agreeing to that…

A short while later, the doorbell rings again, and this time it’s Anna. Just then, Mike comes down the stairs, and of course, he’s wearing cargo pants with a plain black t-shirt. I really don’t know how many black t-shirts he owns…but I guess I’m just as bad. He kisses Anna, obviously admiring her goth outfit with the black and purple dress that is dangerously short.

“I assume you’re spending the night here?” mom asks when she comes to greet them.

Dad is right behind her; they had dinner alone while Mike and I were upstairs, but I know that there will be enough leftovers for us tomorrow. There’ll be food at Brad’s place, which I’m really looking forward to right now. Plus, Anna has brought a Tupperware container with some homemade party snacks. _At least one of us is contributing something…_

“Uh, yeah. Didn’t they tell you?” Dave asks.

“We kinda forgot to tell them anything about tonight.” I reply.

“You’re lucky we let you go.” dad says, giving us the warm Shinoda smile.

Mike and I glance at each other; we know how much mom and dad hate such spontaneous changes of plans. They probably thought we’d have a normal evening, but now Mike and I are going to our very first party without telling them in time. Tomorrow we’ll have breakfast with six people, but mom is always prepared for guests, anyway.

“Hey, everyone. Before you go, I want you to know about the rules.”

“Wait, what rules, dad? We’re just going to Brad’s.” Mike replies.

“I know, but you will still be home at midnight, and not later, okay?”

“Midnight? Come on, it’s Saturday! We don’t even have school tomorrow!” I argue while Anna and Dave exchange an uncomfortable look. Both of them have already heard Mike and me argue with our parents.

“Yes, midnight, Chester. You’re not old enough to stay out longer.”

“But, but…Brad lives just around the block!”

“No means no. You know that.”

I’m muttering complains under my breath as Mike returns to the discussion.

“Come on, it’s almost next door!”

“Michael. I said you’re not old enough for – “

“Please? Just one more hour?”

“No, Michael.”

“Then half an hour? We’ll be home at half past midnight.” I suggest as Dave and Anna stay quiet, watching the scene in front of them.

Mike glances at his wristwatch, rolling his eyes. It’s probably already past eight.

“No. You’ll be home at midnight.”

“But…please, dad?” he asks again, using his big puppy eyes to convince our parents to let us stay out longer.

“Did I stutter? I said no, and I mean no.”

“But why not? That totally fucking sucks!” I complain. “We’re old enough to – “

“No, you’re not, Chester. You keep talking back to me like this, and you’re all staying home, do I make myself clear?”

Sighing dramatically, I realize that there’s no way for us to win this argument. Most of the guests at Brad’s house party will spend the night there; it will be so embarrassing to admit that we have to be home at a certain time.

“Fine.” we all agree.

“And absolutely no alcohol. If any of you comes home drunk, this will be your last party.” mom reminds us, clearly thinking back to what happened this summer.

“Yes, mom…” I say, struggling not to roll my eyes.

The others nod, impatient to get going.

“Okay then, have fun.” dad tells us, and immediately, Dave and Anna set down their overnight bags on the stairs that lead to our bedrooms, and then we’re out the door.

This is gonna be one hell of a night!

xxxxx

**Thanks for reading! Lyrics are taken from ‘a place for my head’ by LP.**


	33. Chapter 33

The cool winter air is surrounding us as we go over to Brad’s parents’ house. It’s the beginning of December, but it never gets really that cold in California, unlike places like Oregon, where Mike’s grandparents live, and where we spend most Christmases. But now is not the time to think about Christmas; now, Dave and I walk hand in hand next to Mike, who’s holding onto Anna’s thighs while she’s sitting on his shoulders. I can clearly see how fascinated he is by those black fishnet tights she’s wearing tonight. I have to admit that they do look pretty dope with her dress and her black and purple leather ankle boots, but I’m focused more on Dave. He always looks so cute, I can’t handle it. And although he dresses so casually, so not-crazy, he told me that one day, he’d like to have lots of tattoos and be a little wilder. I can already picture it, to be honest. Right now though, he wears simple, dark grey jeans with white sneakers and a black and green striped t-shirt underneath his khaki-colored winter jacket.

All four of us are making a lot of noise on the way to Brad’s place; we’re totally hyped for tonight, and have been since Brad first mentioned the words ‘my parents will be visiting friends all weekend and I have the house for myself’. Our group of friends had quickly decided on throwing a party, and I think that a lot of people are coming tonight; not just our regular group, but also other people we know from school or from some other place. Oh, all of us are taken right now, by the way. I would have never believed it, but even shy Rob has managed to get a girlfriend. She’s nice, and as introverted as he is. Also, Brad and Joe are dating someone, which I think is really great.

“Did they really have to tell us not to drink and when to be home? My parents would never be that controlling.” Anna complains. “But I’m glad they’re okay with us sleeping over tonight, even though you hadn’t told them before.”

“Yeah, I really thought you would have told them about going out tonight!” Dave agrees while Mike and I try to find excuses as to why we forgot to tell our parents about the party.

“That’s just how they are.” Mike replies. “I was surprised dad didn’t say anything about your dress being too short.” he laughs, patting Anna’s legs.

_Is he gonna let her sit on his shoulders like this the whole way to Brad’s house? Mike and Anna usually aren’t the type to be very affectionate with each other out in public, contrary to Dave and me. We don’t give a fuck about anyone seeing us kissing or holding hands. And if anyone dares to insult us or call us names for being homo- or bi- or whatever -sexual, I’ll punch them in the face._

“Yes, I was surprised, too.” Anna agrees with Mike, snapping me out of my thoughts. “I was prepared for a speech, believe it or not. Something like ‘If you were _my_ daughter I wouldn’t let you wear such a dress’.”

“Did he ever actually say that to you?” Dave asks her.

“Oh, sure. All the time when Mike and I first got together.”

“You know, I hate to say this but my parents would be exactly the same.” he tells us.

“Really?”

“Yeah…they’re so conservative…I’m just glad I’m not a girl.” he laughs.

I squeeze his hand, wondering how I’ll survive this meeting with them next week.

“Can you imagine dad having a daughter?” I jokingly ask Mike, and the second we look at each other, we burst out laughing, because we both know exactly what would happen.

“Oh god, no, that poor girl wouldn’t be allowed to have a boyfriend until she were 18!” he replies.

“She’d have to be home at 8 every night!”

“And she would have to dress like a nun before he even let her go outside!”

“It wouldn’t be that bad, would it?” Dave interrupts us.

“Probably not…” I admit. “I think mom would intervene at some point and tell him to take it easy.”

“True. Like she did when you went to the hairdresser and got the mohawk without telling anyone.” Mike agrees, laughing.

Soon, we change the subject and get more and more excited for our first party.

“I like your nailpolish by the way. The silver looks really nice.” Dave says in a quiet tone, hoping that Mike and Anna can’t hear us.

“Thanks. I was hoping you’d say something about that. I bought it just for you.” I admit.

“Oh, jeez you guys, you’re so cheesy!” Mike whispers to himself while Anna giggles, but we don’t care what they think about us.

“Do you like the glitter?” I ask Dave, who immediately nods.

“I do. You really look cute with it.”

I don’t say anything in return, I just kiss him on the cheek and smile at him.

“Like a princess.” Dave teases, and I slap his arm, but Mike has already heard us.

“Like a princess?!” he asks with his eyebrows raised.

_Damn, now I’m sure that the next time I’ll act up at home and throw one of my fits, he’ll call me ‘princess’ just to piss me off more…_

Soon, we arrive at Brad’s parents’ house. Mike lets Anna jump down from his shoulders and rings the doorbell, and we can already hear some noise from inside. A few seconds later, Brad and his new girlfriend Linda open the door, and the first thing I smell is alcohol. Damn, we promised mom and dad not to drink tonight…we’re not old enough, anyway.

We leave our coats in the hallway of this big ass house and join the party. Both of Brad’s parents are doctors, which is why they can afford this huge house with a nice pool. My parents could afford it, too, I guess, but they don’t like to show off what they have. Oh boy, there really are a lot of people here. Every one of our group, plus almost everyone we know from school, except of a few idiots Brad didn’t want to invite. There are some people I don’t know, but I’m always quick to make new friends, so I don’t worry about the strangers.

Over the next half hour, more and more people arrive, and at around 9 PM, the party is in full swing. Lots of separate little groups have been built; some people hang out by the pool, even though it’s kinda cold. They’re outside in the garden and wearing jackets, because the Delson’s patio and pool area is the perfect place for a party, no matter the weather. Some other people are eating all the food, which is why we already ate when we arrived here. Some are playing games, getting tipsy, or just making conversation. Some people brought beer, but I’ll stay away from it tonight. Maybe.

I have to say, the fruity punch that most people are drinking looks tasty as hell. If I could have one drink…just one, that would be amazing. But no. I have to resist and stick to soda. I don’t wanna be grounded again, and even though it’s tempting, I can’t come home drunk tonight. Sure, I could have one single cup, but I know that I won’t be able to stop once I have started. It looks and smells heavenly…but is it worth being punished? I have no intention at all to be grounded again, or to have my video games taken away from me. It sounds stupid, but I think I have learned my lesson from the last time. Mom said ‘absolutely no alcohol’…but, on the other hand, would she even notice if I had one drink? Just one? I’m conflicted.

Ugh, I gotta stay away from the table where the fruit punch stands on full display for everyone, next to mountains of red plastic cups. I have to go somewhere else…

Dave and I have a quick discussion about drinking or not drinking, before we walk into our friend Joe who’s taking pictures. His new girlfriend Cathy tags along with him and looks at him in admiration while he’s talking about photography as if he were a fucking professional. We talk for a while until we settle down with a group of people who play ‘spin the bottle’, which I haven’t played since the last class trip. Sure, kissing girls isn’t really my thing anymore, and guys kissing guys isn’t the other people’s thing, but the game is still fun. Dave and I are laughing at the people who spin the bottle and have to kiss the person the bottle points to, until it’s my turn to spin. The empty beer bottle points to a girl I’ve seen at school a few times. The group has agreed that people who are in a relationship only have to kiss the other person on the cheek, while singles have to kiss each other on the lips. Yes, this version of the game is pretty innocent, but none of us are nearly as drunk as you have to be to make this game more fun.

I go to kiss her on the cheek, but she somehow seems to think it’s okay to kiss me on the lips, which I stop as soon as I realize what she’s going to do. She seems overly excited to me, for some reason.

“Hey, wait! I’m not single!” I tell her, laughing a bit nervously.

“You’re not?” she asks, a little disappointed. “You have a girlfriend?”

“Uh, no. I, I – “

“But then it’s okay, right?”

“No, it’s not okay.” I whisper, taking Dave’s hand, which she and everyone else obviously sees.

“Wait, you guys are _together_? Like, as a couple?!” she asks in a high pitched voice as if it was the most scandalous news she had ever heard.

“Um, yeah.” I admit, slightly blushing.

Dave and I have decided not to hide our relationship; there’s no shame in being gay, but we know that not everyone sees it like that. Most of the people we know and are friends with know about us, and they don’t mind at all. There’s a short, uncomfortable silence before the girl makes kind of a huffing sound as if she were an offended dragon, and we quickly kiss each other on the cheek, until it’s Dave’s turn to spin the bottle. When it points to a guy we both don’t know, there’s an even more uncomfortable pause. The guy gives Dave and me a questioning look before he hesitantly says it’s okay to share a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Listen buddy, this is not contagious or anything.” Dave says, and I can hear in his voice that he wants to go somewhere else, away from those people.

When the first round of the game is over, Dave and I excuse ourselves. We don’t want to play a simple, innocent game with people who think they’ll turn gay if they even look at us. And what the hell was up with that girl? I didn’t even know her name, I’ve just seen her at school a couple of times, but she certainly knew me. As Dave and I go to talk to a group of strangers that stand by the fruit punch, our mood brightens.

“Chaz?” Dave asks when the strangers have decided to check out the pool area outside.

“Yeah?”

“I really wanna have a cup of that punch…do you think that would be okay?”

“Sure. You don’t have to ask me for permission, babe.” I laugh, wrapping my arm around his waist.

“Yes, but…your parents…”

“What about them?”

“They told us not to drink.”

“So what? You don’t live with them. Mike and I are the only ones who could get in trouble for anything that happens tonight.” I remind him, pressing a quick kiss on his lips.

“You’re right, they can’t ground _me_.” he smirks.

I watch as he takes one of the plastic cups and fills it with the pink, fruity liquid that smells and certainly tastes amazing. Before I can even say anything, Dave has downed the whole cup, grinning at me and then pulling me into a wet kiss. He tastes like red berries and cheap alcohol, but I love it. I wonder where Brad even got the alcohol for this; as far as I know, he doesn’t have a fake ID or anything like that. Also, he doesn’t look a day older than 14, although he turned 16 two weeks ago. Maybe someone bought it for him?

“Let’s go somewhere more private.” I whisper in Dave’s ear, taking him by the hand.

He’s got another cup of fruit punch in his other hand; apparently it’s as delicious as I thought. I won’t have a drink tonight, though. I have something in mind that is way more fun than getting drunk. We’ve been here over an hour and still haven’t done anything wild or crazy. We ate and drank, we talked to friends, we talked to strangers, and we even played a stupid party game, but before I go home, I want us to do something, _anything_ , that is just wrong, silly and stupid. Something risky.

“Chazzy, where are we going?” he asks as I drag him through the living room area and towards the broom closet in the corner.

I open the door, expecting to find a little bit of privacy, but instead, Dave and I see our friend Rob making out with his girlfriend. _So that’s why I haven’t seen him here yet_ , I think as we all stare at each other for a moment.

“This room is occupied!” he shouts through the music that’s blaring through the entire house, and just when I want to make a sassy remark, I catch Joe snapping a photo of the four of us.

Dave and I laugh it off while Rob and his girl, who is already half naked, don’t seem to be so happy. Rob, who is usually so nice and calm, slams the door and a second later we hear them giggle. While Dave is sipping on his second cup of fruit punch, I look for a room that isn’t occupied yet

“Chazzy, wait.” he suddenly stops me, and I find myself between him and the wall.

“Yes?”

“I, I…there’s something I wanted to tell you. And I’m not telling you that because I’m drunk or anything. I’ve had just one and a half cups, and…well, I’m saying it because I wanted to say it for some time now, and…I…what I wanted to say was…I think I love you.”

_Dave loves me? He’s in love with me? Really? With me? I’m sure that I’m in love with him, too, and I have been for a while. I thought about saying something, but ended up waiting because I was afraid to get disappointed or hurt._

“I think I love you, too.” I whisper, and we get lost in each other’s eyes for a long moment.

We hug and kiss, leaning against the wall in the corridor on our way to find an empty room. We have a bit of privacy here in the corridor, because the main action takes place in the living room, kitchen and garden, so I have no problem making out with my boyfriend right here. He tastes like the fruity alcohol he’s been drinking, and I can feel that this, my very first party, will be one of the best parties ever. Finally we stumble into a room that doesn’t seem to be occupied yet. I switch on the lights, and – holy fuck - I think we’re in Brad’s parents’ bedroom. Okay.

As Dave closes the door, we take a look around. This weird house doesn’t have any locks on the doors, except of the front door, of course. Ugh, I don’t care if anyone comes in here, we’re just kissing, anyway. I know it’s wrong to use someone else’s bed, but Dave and I…we have so little time for intimacies that I don’t care right now. Friday nights are the only chance we have to cuddle and make out, so if another opportunity comes up, we have to take it.

After getting out of our shoes so we don’t get anything dirty, we lie down on the neatly made huge king-size bed and quickly get rid of most of our clothes until we’re only in boxer shorts. We can hear the music in the distance, and I’m almost sure that the CD we’re currently listening to is something like ‘top 100 billboard charts’ or some crap like that. I don’t care, though; I’m alone with my boyfriend on a bed that is much bigger than mine, and we have lots of space. Dave has placed his half empty cup of fruit punch on one of the nightstands, and when he goes to take another sip, we can’t resist taking a look into the drawer. It’s wrong to invade other people’s privacy like this, but I try not to care about that.

“Oh my god, Chaz! Look!”

“What is it, babe?”

“Is this what I think it is?”

I take a closer look at the little bottle that says ‘water based lubricant’, and I realize that it’s the same brand that I got for free at one of the health classes at the youth center. It’s in the drawer of my bedside table, hidden under a stack of socks that don’t belong there. We’ve used it only a few times while we were exploring new and exciting things to do in bed that don’t count as real sex but are still fun. Then, a crazy thought crosses my mind.

“Dave…let’s have sex.” I suggest impulsively.

That’s me. Impulsive is practically my middle name. Chester Impulsive Bennington-Shinoda.

“Are you drunk?” he asks me jokingly.

“What? No, _you’re_ drunk.” I reply, poking him in the rips and trying to annoy him as he reaches out to the plastic cup to drink the rest of his fruit punch.

“I’m not drunk!” he laughs as I continue to poke and tickle him a little. “Not even…ah, stop it…not there! Not even tipsy!”

In one unobservant moment, he accidentally knocks over the half-empty cup and the rest of the punch lands on the rug under the bed. Damn. We watch as the pink liquid seeps into the cream white fabric, and now there’s nothing we can do about it anymore; there’s a pink stain that can’t be overseen.

“But, anyway…Dave, I was being serious, you know?” I ask, pushing all my worries about a stained rug to the back of my mind.

“About…having sex?”

“Hmhm.” I say as I pull him closer, and we share a few gentle kisses.

“Are you really sure?” he asks me.

“Yes.”

“No, I meant…are you really, really sure? You know, considering, um…what happened to you. I thought you wanted to wait?”

“I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

“God, I don’t, either.” he replies, looking at me intensely.

“Great, then – “

“Wait. We only do this if you _really_ want to – “

“I do!”

“You know I would never force you, right?”

“Mhm, I know. Come here…” I beg, but he holds both palms against my chest, holding me at bay.

“And you promise me you’ve felt okay lately? No nightmares and such?”

“No, not one in the past two weeks. No anxiety, either. I promise, babe. I have done all the exercises, been honest in therapy and felt much better, seriously.”

“But – “

“Don’t you want to?”

“I do! I do want to!” he says, quickly pressing a loud, smacking kiss on my lips.

“Then why do you tell me no? I swear, nothing bad will happen. I won’t freak out. Come ooooon, we’ve talked about this before. Im ready now and I really want to.”

_It’s true. We have talked about having sex and how it’s gonna be. Why does he have so many doubts all of a sudden? He wants this, too, doesn’t he? And it’s not too soon, is it? Yes, it might be a bit early, but right now, it feels like the right thing to do. It feels good to be in a bed that doesn’t share a wall with anyone else who could hear something; we’re completely alone here because all the others are busy partying and getting drunk._

“I’m not telling you no, I’m just…I want us to be careful, okay?”

“So that’s a yes?” I smirk at him, teasing his nipples the way he likes it.

“Okay. If you want it, and you think you’re ready, then I want it, too.” he whispers, smiling kind of wickedly.

I can sense how nervous he is; hell, I’m nervous, too. As I said, we’ve already experimented with lube and stretching down there, and we’ve even had the courage to ask some pretty dumb questions about it at the health classes in the youth center, so we feel that we know enough about this. I have to say that I’m really comfortable with letting him touch me where I thought I’d never let anyone touch me ever again, and I actually feel safe with him.

“Hey, listen, I, I was thinking that maybe…maybe I could, you know, do it? I could be on top?” I suggest hesitantly.

“Uh, sure. If you feel better that way, I’m in. But…if you wanna stop, that’s okay, too. We can do lots of other stuff.”

“I won’t want to stop, I promise.”

For a few seconds, we just hold each other, lying on our sides and facing one another. This feels like a very important moment in our relationship; a moment we’ve been waiting for and yet been afraid of.

“So…how do we do this?” Dave asks, and I can see how excited he is.

“We need different light…something romantic.” I say, because if I’m honest to myself, I was hoping to do this in candlelight or something like that, but sadly, there aren’t any candles in sight.

We agree on turning the lights off and just leaving one of the bedside lamps on. The room is now illuminated in a nice, dark shade of yellow-orange, which we both really like. It’s almost as good as candlelight.

“Oh god, Dave! We forgot something!” I suddenly remember. I can hear that my voice sounds a bit more panicky, and I hope we can find a solution.

“What is it, Chazzy?”

“We need condoms!”

“But…You can be sure that I’m not gonna get pregnant.” he giggles.

“Yes, yes, I know…but…at the youth center they talked about STDs and all that stuff, do you remember?”

“I do, but…we’re clean, aren’t we? This is our first time so I thought…never mind, better be safe.”

“Yeah, better be safe.”

“I, I think I have one in my wallet.” Dave says, getting up from the bed and rummaging through his wallet that is in the back pocket of his jeans.

“Wait, why would you have a condom in there?”

“Last week when you couldn’t come to the youth center, they gave us another lesson about the importance of, um, you know, protection, and they handed out free condoms to those of us who were…uh, interested.” he admits, blushing.

“And I take it you were interested?” I tease him as he comes back to bed.

“Well, yeah.”

“That’s good, I would have been interested, too.” I laugh.

“Of course you would.” he whispers, bending down and kissing me just below my belly button.

_Fantastic! Now we’re well prepared and nothing can go wrong anymore,_ I think, feeling anticipation rush through my body.

“So, um, I guess we better get naked.” he says in a quiet, nervous tone.

“Uhu.”

We take our time stripping each other from our underwear, which is not awkward at all, because it’s not the first time we’ve been naked together. It feels good to feel over his smooth, soft skin, and to kiss him all over. I like how he does the same to me, and what’s even better is that right here and now in the dark orange light, I feel no anxiety at all. No fear, no doubts, just trust. My brain blocks out the terrible music Brad has chosen for his party tonight, and instead I focus only on the sensations I feel. I’m gonna be on top for our first time, which makes me feel a little safer. I always love when we just cuddle and touch each other, and how we both get turned on pretty quickly.

I’m sure that to an outsider, this whole scene would look almost comical, because we’re trying everything to make no mistakes and do everything right; from the way we use more than enough lube to the fact that we spend a whole lot of time on stretching and preparing. I think it feels good for him, because we’re constantly communicating, asking if everything is alright and if he’s feeling any pain or not.

Then, it’s time for me to put on the condom. _Damn, how do I open this fucking package with my slippery fingers? I’m losing my patience here_. Eventually, I rip the package open with my teeth. _Okay, now to the next part: waste no time putting it on but still be careful. Ha! I did it! Okay, now don’t get nervous, you can do this. Wait! Don’t forget to spread lube on the condom, too! That’s the most important part!_ _Oh man, I wonder how Dave feels; he must be nervous out of his mind. I know I would. I just hope it’s not over too soon…_

“Are you ready?” I ask again.

“Yeah, do it now, but go slow, please.”

When I spread his legs a little wider and place one hand on his hips from behind, I know that we both couldn’t be more ready to lose our virginity together.

xxxxx

“Dave? Babe?”

“Huh?” he asks me when we have recovered from what we just did.

He’s breathing hard, just as I am. _Oh my god, I can’t believe we just did this. I guess it took about 15 to 20 minutes or so, and for me, it was really nice. Better than nice, actually. It was great._

“What did it feel like for you? Was it good?”

“Yeah…” he mumbles into the pillow, not saying anything further for a while. I have collapsed on his back when it was over, and we’ve held onto each other since then. “It was…it was…god, I liked it.” he adds, finally facing me.

“Hey, um…did it hurt?” I ask carefully, avoiding eye contact.

“It kind of did at first, but it was okay. It didn’t hurt too much, I swear.”

I’m so relieved; I was afraid I would hurt him. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll let him be on top sometime soon. I still feel amazing, and I don’t regret my impulsive decision from earlier. His face is flushed and sweaty, and I guess I’m the same. We made quite a mess on the bed, but I can worry about this tomorrow, when we come over to help Brad clean up. _Fuck, he’s gonna kill me for having sex in his parents’ bedroom. Oh God. Ugh, never mind, it was worth it._ At some point, we have to get up from the bed and get cleaned up. Thank god for en-suite bathrooms. I go first, washing myself and throwing the used condom in the small grey trash bin next to the toilet.

Dave and I get dressed in silence, occasionally sharing a shy smile. Before we return to the party, we kiss one last time in the privacy of the room. I feel so many things at the same time, my heart is gonna explode.

xxxxx

We decide to go outside in the garden to get some fresh, cold winter air, but as soon as I open the door to the patio, a weird smell hits me. Before we went outside, Dave took another cup of the remaining fruit punch and drank it in record time. I want one, too, but the fear of being grounded again is stronger than the desire to try this amazing-looking drink.

“What the fuck is that smell?” I ask Dave, who makes a face at whatever people are smoking here.

“I think I know what it smells like…Chaz, this is weed!”

_Oh, now I’m interested. Who the fuck brought weed to this party? I’m just glad they’re not doing it inside…_

We find Mike and the rest of our group next to the pool, apparently playing truth or dare, but Dave and I notice right away that there’s something wrong with them. I’ve never been high, I have never tried any drugs, and I know Dave hasn’t, either, but what I do know is that Mike, Anna and the rest of them are totally stoned. Mike and Anna are lying on the lawn, holding hands and making snow angels in the grass. They look overly relaxed and happy, which I guess is a result of the joint that lays in the ashtray. I can’t believe my eyes.

“Are you high?!” I ask Mike as we get closer to them.

“High as a kite!” he giggles.

_Fucking hell, we can’t come home like this,_ I think as I plant my ass next to him. Some of our other friends aren’t as high as Mike and Anna, so Dave and I join in on their game, which is way more fun than earlier when we played spin the bottle with those weird other people. I don’t even know what time it is…how long have Dave and I been in the bedroom? I have no idea.

As Mike and Anna, and also Brad and Rob plus their girlfriends continue to giggle at random words because they’re so high, Dave and I play several rounds of truth or dare with Joe and his girlfriend. According to Joe, Rob has an older cousin who lives in San Francisco, and he was the one who gave Rob the weed during a visit. Sadly, all of it is gone now. I would only lie to myself if I claimed not to be interested in trying weed, but I guess today is not that day.

We play for about half an hour, asking each other questions that have to be answered truthfully, and challenging each other to do crazy dares. If there is anyone who loves this game, it’s me. When we finally go back inside, all of the party guests are still having fun, but near the couch, there’s a broken lamp. There’s a nasty stain on the carpet, much bigger than the stain in the bedroom that I prefer not to think about right now. It looks chaotic in here; oh man, that’s a lot to clean up in the morning. We continue to play truth or dare inside, and some other people join in on the game. Others are going outside, jumping into the pool despite of the cold temperature.

As I look over to the table where the fruit punch stood, I see that it’s empty. I’ve become more and more tempted to take a sip from the pink liquid, but now that nothing is left, and even the beer bottles that some people brought are empty, I’m a little proud of myself that I managed not to drink tonight. _No grounding for Chester, yay!_

While we continue to play, Mike and the others who smoked just a little too much weed are chilling on the couch, occasionally laughing and talking about the weirdest things. At some point, I take a look at the clock above the door. _Fuck. Dammit. Why does this always happen to us?_

It’s 1 AM, which means we should have been home an hour ago. Why, god, why didn’t we keep an eye on the time? Joe is back to taking photos while I explain to Brad that we have to leave. Right now though, he’s way too high to understand what I’m trying to tell him, anyway. It takes Dave and me almost half an hour to convince Mike and Anna to leave, but eventually we come back home, stumbling through the front door almost two hours too late. Mom and dad are not gonna be happy. I glance at Mike’s wristwatch, stressing about all the things that will happen tomorrow. Why didn’t I wear my own wristwatch? This way I could have kept an eye on the time. Oh right, I didn’t wear mine because I thought it didn’t match my outfit…

I turn the key in the lock as quietly as I can, hoping that our parents are already sleeping. Dave is clearly feeling the effects of three cups of fruit punch by now, while Mike and Anna look like they’re about to fall asleep as soon as they hit the bed. Ugh, they smell like weed, it’s so disgusting and yet I’m intrigued to find out what it feels like to be high. Trying to hush their loud giggling and drunk talking, we enter the hallway, leaving our shoes in the corner.

_Can this be? Is it actually possible that for once, I am the responsible one? I’m neither drunk nor high, and I brought all of us home safely. Please let mom and dad be asleep. Please._

Of course, we have no luck, because mom always stays up until we’re back home. She’s always worrying about us, which is totally unnecessary in my opinion. We can take care of ourselves.

“There you are.” she says, coming into the hallway.

“Sorry we’re late, mom.”

The others greet her, too, but it’s more than obvious that there’s something wrong with them.

“Do you have _any_ idea how late it is, young man?” she asks me, sounding very much like dad.

“Uuuum…almost 2?”

“Exactly. Your father went to bed already. I know you’ve been just around the block, but don’t you understand that we worry every time you don’t come home at the time we agreed on?”

“I do. Sorry.” I mumble, not in the mood to argue about this.

She takes another look at Mike, Anna and Dave, but before she can say anything, I interrupt.

“They’re just tired, we better go upstairs.” I excuse their weird behavior, trying to push them up the stairs and out of mom’s sight

“Chester pumpkin, we expect you to be home when we tell you to be home, understood?”

“Yeah…” I say, trying hard not to roll my eyes.

“I called there, and nobody picked up the phone.”

“You called?”

“Yes, at around half past midnight.”

“Um, the...the music was pretty loud. I guess nobody heard the phone.” I reply, stifling a yawn.

Mom sighs, motioning for me to come closer. The others have indeed gone upstairs, which calms me down for now.

“You’re not drunk, are you?” mom asks in a worried tone, and I shake my head, looking at the tiled floor in the hallway.

“No, I promise. Haven’t drank anything but soda all night.”

“Good. Did you take anything else?”

“Wha…what do you mean?” I ask nervously, knowing exactly what she means.

“Just answer the question.”

“I didn’t take anything, I swear.”

“And what about the others?”

“I, I…I don’t know.” I say, lying to her face while chewing on the inside of my cheek. I’m the worst liar of the universe, so she certainly knows what’s up. “Can I just go upstairs? I’m kinda tired.”

I can see that mom thinks for a moment before she allows me to go. It’s really late, and I think she doesn’t want to have a discussion about whatever happened at the party at this hour.

“Alright. We can talk more about this tomorrow. Go to bed, pumpkin.”

xxxxx

When I wake up, I instantly have to think about what Dave and I did in Brad’s parents’ bedroom yesterday. I still feel good about it, and I even slept well, which I was kind of unsure about when I went to bed last night. Obviously I couldn’t do my 20 minutes of stretching exercises before bed, but once I was all tucked in under the cozy blanket, I did the mindfulness exercise in my head, and even a few breathing exercises so I could fall asleep easily. Dave was behind me, already sleeping, and his warmth beside me made me feel safe. My mind was at peace last night, just the way it has been for two weeks now. I do occasionally space out and get lost in my head, but it isn’t as bad as it used to be. I don’t trust my psycho brain, though. It’s just a matter of time until something happens, I’m sure of it.

Glancing at my alarm clock, I see that it’s already past 10. Ugh, we have to get up, face mom and dad, and then go back to Brad’s place to help him clean up the house. Right now, I don’t wanna do either of those things, but we promised Brad to be there. I wonder for how long they partied last night…

“Dave? Babe?” I ask, stroking over his red, wild morning hair.

“Huh? Is it morning? I don’t wanna get up…” he replies sleepily.

“We have to help Brad clean up the house before his parents come home.”

“How can you even speak this early in the morning?”

“It’s past 10.”

“Uuugh, let me sleep just five more minutes…” he groans, and I can’t help but smile at how grumpy he is in the morning.

I kiss his forehead and go to take a shower, pushing away all of my worries about the lecture we’ll receive during breakfast.

xxxxx

Breakfast went exactly as I thought it would. Mom and dad had eaten hours ago, because they knew we’d need more time to get out of bed today. When all of us eventually came downstairs to eat, they sat with us, because that’s just how they are. I like that we spend all meals sitting together at the table, even if parts of the family have already eaten. So anyway, they gave us the usual speech about not coming home late again and being irresponsible; I just sat there, not paying much attention to dad’s lecture, because I was rubbing my thigh against Dave’s under the table. Whilst I was scarfing down scrambled eggs and orange juice, mom began to interrogate us about if we drank any alcohol or did drugs last night and what on earth we were thinking to come home two hours later than what we had agreed on.

“Listen, we just want to know if you did anything else than drinking? I know what marijuana smells like, guys, you can just admit it.” Mom says in a soft voice, while dad is angrily drinking what looks like his third coffee. I can sense how mad both of them are, and I’m sure we’ll talk more about this when Dave and Anna have gone home.

“Hey, wait!” I say a little too loudly, “ _I_ wasn’t drunk, and _I_ wasn’t high either! You know I’m telling the truth, mom!”

“It’s okay, Chester. We believe you.” she replies calmly.

“And I wasn’t high, either, I was just…” Dave begins.

“Just drunk, David?” dad asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, I wouldn’t call it drunk, sir.”

“Jeez, you don’t have to call him ‘sir’ anymore.” I mutter under my breath.

“He’s right, you don’t have to do that anymore. But I would appreciate it if the next time we tell you not to drink, all of you would listen.”

Dave nods while I smirk at him, and Mike and Anna stay silent. They haven’t said much since they woke up.

“So that leaves you two.” Mom tells them as Dave and I finish our breakfast.

“What do you want us to say?” Mike snaps, staring into his orange juice.

I can literally feel how pissed he is.

“Maybe we smoked a little, okay? Some of the others did, too. So what? It was just one time!”

_Oh, Mike, bad idea_. I think. Not once since I live here has ‘so what’ ever gotten us out of an argument.

“Where were you when this happened?” dad asks me, but that’s a question I certainly don’t want to answer.

“I, I…what does it matter? It’s not _my_ fucking fault they got high!”

"Answer me.”

“I…we…we weren’t there when they…when it happened.”

“Where were you, then?”

“We…um, we…” I start, looking at Dave for support.

“We were in another room.” he replies.

“And I still can’t understand why this is important…” I say quietly.

Then, a heated argument starts, and in the end, Friday nights are canceled. The four of us complain and argue, but dad’s decision is made. No Friday movie nights alone at home until further notice. Fuck.

“I told you he’s a hardass.” I whisper in Dave’s ear while Mike still tries to argue with dad.

Finally, breakfast is over and we can go back to Brad’s parents’ place. I’m not exactly looking forward to helping him clean up the house, but at least I’ll have some more time with Dave until he goes home. After today, I’ll see him again on Wednesday at ballet class, and next weekend I’ll meet his parents. Despite of the argument with mom and dad, I’m still on cloud nine when I think about last night.

xxxxx

**Thanks for reading!**


	34. Chapter 34

When we arrive at Brad’s parents’ house and ring the doorbell, it takes a while until he opens. Oh boy, he looks like he was hit by a truck. He’s wearing the same clothes he wore last night, which is why I think he just fell asleep on the couch at some point. I wonder how long they partied last night. His new girlfriend standing next to him doesn’t look so awake, either.

“Mornin’” he mutters.

“Morning, Delson.” Mike greets him.

“Good morning, Linda.”

“Hey.” she replies sleepily.

As we take a look around the house, I notice that it looks like it was hit by a truck, as well. _Damn, cleaning in here is gonna take a while. I just hope his parents won’t come home too early…and if they do, I hope Brad survives the conversation they’ll have with him. Wait, where are all the people who were here last night? I thought most of them were supposed to stay over?_ I ask just that, and in return, he glares at me as if I had just asked him the most offensive question ever.

“Shortly after you left, my dumbass neighbor called the cops, complaining about the noise or something…” he eventually answers.

“They came and sent everyone home. Joe and Rob will be here soon to help us clean up as well. I’m just glad they didn’t come into the garden and smelled the weed we were smoking there…So, um, what I wanted to say was…thanks for coming.”

“That’s what friends are for, Brad!” I say, and the others quickly agree with me.

“Have you already gone through the house and checked if there’s any damage?” Anna asks, and Brad shakes his head.

“No, I…to be honest we woke up when you rang the doorbell.”

We quickly decide to split into two groups and take a look at the house. I can only see the living room right now, which already looks as if a bomb was dropped in here. While Dave and I check out the garden, living room and kitchen, the others look at the rest of the house. Ten minutes later, we meet again, making a plan for who has to clean what and how to manage the time until Brad’s parents return. The first thing we do is opening every single window to get rid of the smell in here.

“So, how does it look?” Dave asks.

“I don’t know where to start! There’s a broken lamp in the living room that they’ll definitely notice. There are some stains on the floor and the rugs, you said the garden is a complete mess, and the kitchen has to be deep cleaned from top to bottom. Also, it looks like some idiots had sex in my parents’ bed. Who would do that? How disrespectful do you have to be to do that in a friend’s house? I mean, seriously…” Brad rants while Mike and Anna giggle together.

I swallow, avoiding to look at Dave. Fuck. Brad’s seen the bedroom. Should I be honest or not? Before I can answer, Dave is already talking.

“Um, I don’t know how to tell you this, but…these idiots would be Chaz and me.”

“Wait, what?!” “I’m sorry…” Dave apologizes while I nod and agree with him.

“Are you fucking kidding me?! Have you seen that room? Have you actually seen how it looks in there now? How dare you to, to…use someone else’s bedroom to fuck like horny rabbits?!” he yells at us while we try hard not to laugh.

“Well, the broom closet was kinda occupied.” I reply cheekily. “But you should ask Rob about that when he gets here.”

“What? You’re gonna clean that up!”

“Sure.” I smirk, slightly embarrassed that Dave just straight up told him it was us in there.

Right at that moment, the doorbell rings, and Brad goes to open it while the rest of us stay in the living room. Mike pats me on the shoulder without saying a word. He and Anna have been laughing their asses off while Brad has had his little outburst, and now that Joe and Rob have arrived, too, we can finally get to work. We brief them on the state of the house and divide who has to clean what. After Dave and I have stripped the bed, we ask Brad where the laundry machine is located and put the dirty sheets inside. Finally, I can use some of the householding skills mom has been trying to teach Mike and me all these years. I quickly figure out the machine and hope the sheets will be washed and dried before Mr. and Mrs. Delson come home. Now we only have to clean the rest of the bedroom, get rid of the condom I threw into the bin and figure out how to deal with the red stain on the carpet. If only we hadn’t knocked over the cup of fruit punch…

Neither Dave nor I know how to get such a stain out of a white carpet, so the only thing we can do is call mom. She’ll know how to deal with it. I use the phone at Brad’s place to call home while Dave deals with the bathroom.

“Hello?”

“Hi mom, it’s me.”

“Oh hey, pumpkin. What is it?”

“I, um…I need help with something. We’re helping Brad clean up the house, as you know, and, well, in a hypothetical situation, how would you get a stain out of a white carpet?”

“A hypothetical situation, you say?” she asks, and I can clearly hear that she’s smiling.

“Uhu.”

“What kind of stain would that be?”

“Um, I don’t really know, to be honest. Something like red wine maybe? Or some other alcohol with red berries?”

“What did you, Chester?” she asks in a calm tone.

“Me?! It was Dave’s fault!” I reply, biting my tongue a second later.

“What happened there last night?”

“Nothing happened! Mom please, it was just a hypothetical question!”

“Alright, pumpkin.” she sighs before giving me instructions on how to clean the carpet.

“Thanks, mom.” I eventually reply, hoping to find all of the necessary items in Brad’s parents’ house. “You and Michael are being good friends for helping out, you know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, mom.”

“Okay, then. Just one more question.”

“Yeah?”

“Does the house look as bad as I imagine?”

“No, no. It looks fine. Nothing we can’t handle on our own.” I obviously lie before I end the call, inwardly panicking as I look at the clock.

xxxxx

Several hours later, all of the rooms are cleaned, the garden is back in its’ usual state, and the garbage is outside in the bin, waiting for the garbage truck that will conveniently come tomorrow morning. Dave and I are currently putting the washed and dried sheets back onto the bed, hoping that Brad’s parents don’t notice anything. Also, Brad and his girlfriend have showered and changed clothes, so that they don’t look and smell like zombies anymore.

Although the house is clean again, it is still obvious that something has happened here. We didn’t get the red stain out of the carpet perfectly, there’s still a small light pink spot. Maybe they won’t notice? The lamp by the couch is still broken, one of the curtains is still ripped in half and there are still a few stains on the wallpaper that can’t be hidden, but I guess that’s Brad’s story to tell. Just then, we hear a car parking close by, and one look out of the window confirms it: his parents are back home. As fast as possible, Brad thanks all of us for helping him, and then we leave through the garden.

I guess he’ll tell us everything tomorrow at school…

xxxxx

Six days after the party, on Friday evening, I’m on the bus on my way to Dave’s parents’ house. I’m invited for dinner, and I really don’t know what to expect. Will they be nice? Will they want to talk about Dave and me being a couple and how that’s the devil’s work? Will they accept us at all? And how much longer will this bus take? Ugh. I would have been faster if I had just come here by bike. Dave lives in the same neighborhood as Joe, so I’ve been here a few times before, which is good. This way I can’t get lost on the way from the bus stop to the house. We originally planned for this to happen on Saturday, but now that there won’t be any Friday night dates in the near future, Dave’s parents agreed to let me come over today.

I really want them to like me. Anna’s parents love Mike; they say he’s a reasonable and responsible young man. And he is, most times. He stays home tonight; mom and dad said that after deciding to get high last weekend, he can’t go out with Anna or anyone else this weekend, and when he complained about me being allowed to leave the house, they reminded him that I wasn’t the one smoking weed in Brad’s garden. Oh, by the way: Brad told us that his parents made a huge scene when they returned home and he confessed why the house was a bit of a mess. They calmed down a little when he told them that we had all cleaned up together, but he got grounded anyway, and they made him pay for the lamp and curtain that have to be replaced with his allowance. He didn’t say anything about their bedroom, which is why I hope that they will never find out about Dave and me having sex in there.

I arrive a few minutes later, ringing the doorbell while nervousness creeps through every fiber of my body. I’m determined to make a good first impression, which is why I’m dressed in my best jeans and t-shirt. For a change, I’m wearing something that isn’t two sizes too big on me. Mom wouldn’t let me leave the house in the clothes I actually wanted to wear. She said I should wear something nice. What is wrong with my flashy silver studded belt and my skeleton t-shirt? And what’s wrong with my baggy jeans? Seriously…I even removed the nailpolish. I don’t wanna hide who I am, but mom said that for the first time meeting them, I should try to be…what did she call it? Less crazy. Can you believe that? So now I’m in grey jeans and a black t-shirt, white sneakers, and a dark blue hoody with white stripes. It’s getting colder and colder every week, but that might be because next week is already Christmas.

“Hi, Chaz! You’re early.” Dave greets me as he opens the door.

I want to kiss him, but he silently shakes his head at me, looking over his shoulders. We share a very innocent hug and I come inside. We talk for a while, and before I get to meet his parents, he whispers something to me.

“Listen, Chaz…my parents are not like yours. They’re not as open-minded, and – “

“Since when are my parents open-minded?!” I whisper back to him.

“Trust me, in comparison to mine, they are. So, anyway. We cannot kiss when there’s a risk that they could see us. They know we’re together as boyfriends, but I’m sure they don’t want to see any affection between…well…boys.”

“Okay…I’ll behave myself.” I reply, smirking at him before I follow him through the hallway.

The first thing that I noticed was the cross hanging above the door, but I don’t mind that at all. Mike and I grew up with Brad and Rob, whose parents are sort of religious and go to the synagogue regularly. I don’t mind religion, it just bothers me when someone claims that their beliefs don’t allow people to love whoever they want. As he leads the way to the dining room, I see that the house is already decorated for Christmas, which makes me feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. It’s my favorite holiday, and my family already put up all the Christmas decorations and fairy lights, as well.

Ah, I see his parents. His dad is lighting a candle in the middle of the table, while his mom just finished cooking. Dave told me that his mom’s name is Elizabeth, but everyone calls her Betty, and his dad’s name is Thomas. I already know that from the phone call I made to his house after the burger-fiasco this summer. Thomas Farrell looks like an older version of his son, but with less hair. If I didn’t know about their opinion on gay people, I would probably be happier to meet them today, but the fact that they’re finally open to getting to know me has to mean something good, doesn’t it?

After shaking his parents’ hands and saying hello to everyone, we take a seat. _Damn, his dad has squeezed the hell out of my hand_ , I think as I rearrange the cutlery next to my plate so that I can eat with my left hand. That’s when I feel Dave’s elbow lightly bumping into my ribs.

“We pray first!” he whispers.

_Oh, right._

Dave’s dad says a quick prayer about how we’re all grateful for the food the lord has put on the table, and Dave and his mom repeat it. I quickly repeat it with them, but I guess it’s obvious to them that I’m not familiar with praying at all. Mike and I only do it when we visit Brad or Rob and eat with their parents. During dinner, I’m glad that I can at least make a good impression with my table manners. Mom and dad have always taught Mike and me that those are important. I can sense that Dave’s parents want to ask about our relationship; it’s the huge elephant in the room, and I’m scared of what they will ask. I’m being a good guest and praise Mrs. Farrell’s cooking, even though my own mom cooks way better. Okay, maybe not better, but different.

“I take it you and your family do not pray before having a meal?” his dad asks me a few minutes after we have started eating, taking me a little by surprise.

“Um, no, sir.” I admit.

“And I guess you also don’t go to church?”

“No, sir.” “Not even at Christmas?”

“No, but – “

“Then why do you celebrate it?”

“Dad, come on…” Dave whispers to himself as his father grills me about family traditions and how not following Christian values is wrong.

Damn, I haven’t expected this. I feel like I’m in a police interrogation. I know the same line of questioning from my own dad, though. Just in a different context; usually it’s about misbehaving at school or why I’m late again. I manage to talk my way around the uncomfortable questions and defend my opinions without losing my temper, which I’m really proud of. Also, Dave has touched my knee with his own the whole time, calming me down.

“Thomas, honey, that’s enough.” Dave’s mother says in a kind tone, and her husband stops interrogating me.

His mom then asks me about how school is going, what I do in my free time and so on. I get a little carried away when I talk about my theater group at school, but all in all, I think it’s going well. I’ve been a little anxious when his dad asked me about not being a good Christian, but now that we talk about something else I feel much better. Until the elephant in the room can’t be avoided much longer.

“So, Chester, you and David are…together?” Dave’s mom asks hesitantly.

I watch from the corner of my eye how his dad almost drops his fork, and I can hear how Dave takes a deep breath before slowly exhaling. I’ve never seen him this nervous.

“Um, yes, mam.” I reply after exchanging a glance with Dave. _Damn, we knew this question would come._ “We met at the ballet class, but I guess you know that already.”

“I thought we didn’t want to talk about this?” Dave’s dad whispers to his mom.

“I’m just making conversation, darling.”

“This is not an appropriate subject for the dinner table.”

While his parents have a short argument about what is appropriate to talk about and what is not, Dave and I feel more than awkward, finishing our food in silence.

“I’m so sorry.” Dave eventually whispers in my ear, and I grin at him.

“It’s okay. You told me this would happen.” I tell him, taking his hand under the table.

He told me that we couldn’t hold hands or anything like this, but I think we have to stand up to his parents. _Who cares if they don’t accept us? I don’t. And Dave shouldn’t care, either_ , I think, stroking my thumb over the back of his hand.

“David! None of that at the table.” Mr. Farrell says when he sees us holding hands.

We immediately let go of each other and keep our hands to ourselves. I have to bite back a smile, because ‘none of that at the table’ is usually what my own dad always tells Mike and me when we communicate in sign language or do anything else that he doesn’t accept during dinner.

“Tell me, Chester, what do _your_ parents think about having a gay son?” Dave’s dad suddenly asks me.

_Fuck, I thought he didn’t want to talk about this ‘inappropriate’ topic?!_

“They support me.” I reply, trying to appear self-confident. “And by the way I’m not gay, I’m bi.”

“Oh, that’s just a fancy word for not being able to decide.”

“It’s not! It means someone is attracted to both girls and guys.” I argue.

Okay, now I am getting angry. I’ve been so calm and patient this whole time, even surprising myself with how calm I was, but that’s enough. I won’t sit here and let him judge me like the conservative asshole he is.

“It means someone sleeps with whoever is available, and – “

“Dad, stop it! That’s not true!” Dave shouts before I even have the chance to say anything. _Damn, I don’t want this evening to get out of control_. “Come on, Chaz, I’ll show you my room.” he adds, taking my wrist and practically dragging me out of the room and up the stairs.

We can hear his parents argue as we close the door of his room and sit down on his bed. I notice the cross above the doorframe, and the bible lying on the desk under a stack of various other books, but I don’t say anything about it. I have sensed the tense atmosphere in the room since Mr. Farrell asked me about whether or not we pray at home, but I haven’t expected it to escalate so quickly.

“I’m really sorry about this, Chaz. I, I don’t often talk back to my parents, but just now I had to.”

“Why did they even agree to meet me if they’re so against us?!” I rage, bouncing my leg up and down.

“It was mom’s idea. She thought that if dad just got to know you, he’d understand us a little better, you know? He…he was so angry when I came out to them. They were both yelling, but mom eventually came around and now she at least tries to accept it, but dad hasn’t talked much to me since then. All I get to hear from him are accusations. It’s like he ignores me at home as soon as the topic of you and me comes up. It was so different before I came out. He was nice, you know? A little like your parents. It’s as if life at home has completely changed since I came out. I feel like he’s gotten even more into religion since then, and…I’m really sorry about what he said about you being bi. I guess he just doesn’t understand it…”

“It’s okay.” I hear myself say, even though I’m still mad. I take him into my arms and we lean against the wall next to the bed.

“No, it’s not okay. I think there’s no excuse for being homophobic. Can’t people be gay and believe in God at the same time? And I also think that it was wrong of him to attack you just because you don’t pray at home. He doesn’t even know your family. I’d understand if you made fun of me for going to church and all of that, but you don’t. You don’t do that because you’re you. You’re so kind and wonderful and he doesn’t see that because you’re just a little different than the other people he knows. He’s so fucking intolerant, I hate it…”

“Kind and wonderful?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.” I say, climbing into his lap.

“I love you, too.”

“ _Now_ can I kiss you?” I ask him in a quiet tone, waiting for him to give me permission.

“You can kiss me anytime.”

And so, we engage in slow, careful kissing as he pulls me closer and holds me in place with his hands on my butt. My hands go into his hair and our kisses become wilder, but I can sense that there’s still a lot on his mind.

“What is it, baby?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you without nail polish.”

“That’s not really what you wanted to say, huh?” I laugh, squirming as his fingers go to my waist.

“Um, no. What I wanted to say was…thanks for coming over today. We both knew it would be difficult but you came anyway. I don’t know if dad will ever accept us, and if he doesn’t, we have to be strong, okay?”

“Okay, let’s be strong together.” I reply, letting my eyes wander over his room.

A couple of brochures catch my eyes. They peek out of the trash bin under his desk, but I can still read what they say. My stomach almost turns when I realize that they advertise some conversion program from the local church. ‘Suspect your son might be gay? Conversion therapy will help him.’ Some others look like anti-homosexuality propaganda, or whatever the hell this is supposed to be…

“What’s with all these brochures?” I ask, pointing at the trash bin.

“Oh, that. Yeah…I found them lying on my desk the other day and threw them away immediately. I suspect dad put them here. He’s convinced that I’m just confused and need help.”

“Dave…what do your parents think we do on those Friday nights when you came over to my house? I mean…they have to know we’re not having some bible study meeting there.”

Now that I’ve met his parents, I can’t explain to myself how he even convinced them to stay over at my place every Friday night for the past few weeks.

“I think that deep down, they know what we’re doing there. They know we do more than innocently holding hands under the table, but they don’t know that we’ve had sex. Oh god, I can’t even imagine what would happen if they found out about that. You gotta promise me, Chaz, they can never find out. Please, promise me.”

“Of course, baby, I promise.”

“That day when I came out to them and then asked if I could stay over…I admit that this probably wasn’t the best plan. They were so pissed at me that they told me to do whatever I wanted and just get out of the house for a few hours. Then the next few times I came over to your place, I just told them I’d be back the next morning and that they shouldn’t worry about me. They weren’t happy with me, but they didn’t ban me from seeing you, either, and I guess that’s because they don’t want any of this to be true. You know, I…I can’t talk to them about, um…intimate things. It’s not like your house. You and Mike can just openly talk to your parents about those things, but I can’t. Anything that has to do with sex outside of marriage and the purpose of making children is a real taboo in this house.”

“Oh, baby, it’s gonna be okay. I promise.” I say, but he doesn’t seem to be convinced yet.

“And now…they drag me to church every Sunday to make me see that being gay is against God’s wishes or something. I mean…we already went to church before I came out; it was just a normal Sunday activity, but I have a feeling that dad talked to our priest about me, because during the last several times, he always said something about how homosexuality is wrong. And I sit there next to my parents, listening to that crap every Sunday, can you believe that?!”

“That’s terrible, Dave. I’m really sorry they do that.” I say, softly kissing the lobe of his right ear. “You know what would be cool?”

“What, Chazzy?”

“If we got matching earrings. My dad would lose it.” I giggle, and finally he seems to be in a better mood, as well.

“Mine, too. Let’s do it.”

“Really? I promised dad to not get another tattoo or a piercing before my 18th birthday.”

“We’ll just do it then. As soon as you turn 18, we’ll get earrings.”

“Deal. Let’s do something more fun, okay?” I suggest.

“But…my parents…what if they see us?”

“Oh, screw them.”

We go back to kissing afterwards; kissing and humping and rubbing up against each other until we have completely forgotten where we are. _Fuck, it feels good, and I know that if we have just a few more minutes privacy, we’re gonna need some tissues. Hey, maybe we can use those ridiculous church brochures to clean up the mess; that would be fun._ We don’t hear the footsteps, we don’t hear the door, we only hear each other’s ragged breathing.

“Hey, I brought you boys some fruit, and I thought we could talk abou – David!” we hear his mom gasp, and a second later, we look up, seeing her standing in the open doorway with a bowl full of sliced fruit.

We are frozen in shock for a second before we quickly bring some space between us.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Dave claims as he grabs the nearest pillow and holds it in front of his crotch.

I do the same, not daring to breathe while I clutch the pillow with both hands. _Man, this is embarrassing…_

“I think this is exactly what it looks like! What do you think you’re doing?” she shrieks.

“I, I, um…I’m sorry.” he replies.

“You should be ashamed of yourselves!”

“Mom, please, we’re sorry.”

“Wait, what?” I interrupt them, angry that Dave just gives in like that. “We’re not sorry. We don’t have anything to apologize for.”

Dave looks at me, slightly shaking his head to make me shut up. Fine, being caught humping each other on his bed was really embarrassing, but we don’t have to be sorry for what we did. We’ve done nothing wrong, even if his parents don’t agree.

“Yes, you do. You should be sorry. It’s not right to do these things.” Mrs. Farrell says.

She’s not screaming at us anymore and instead tries to speak calmly now.

“I disagree.” I reply, doing my best not to explode.

I glance over to Dave who’s sitting a few feet away from me in silence. _Damn, I had hoped this first meeting with his parents would turn out differently_. To my horror, Dave’s dad comes in, asking what’s going on in here.

“Nothing, dad. Nothing’s going on.” Dave says, but we all know that his dad is well aware of what we’ve done.

Just one look at the scene in front of him must have told him what happened. He stand next to his wife who’s still holding the bowl of fruit she wanted to bring us. The original idea is actually nice, it shows that she cares about her son and his friends, and maybe she will accept having a gay son someday, but right now, she’s clearly still struggling with it. Her husband looks angry, though, and I notice how Dave isn’t looking at him, but at me now.

“You know, Chester, if you just came to church with us sometime…you might see that what you two are doing is wrong.” his dad tells me. His voice sounds tense but controlled.

“No, thanks.”

“Tell me, what do your parents think of this attitude of yours?”

“Dad, please. You don’t have to be so mean to Chaz.” Dave speaks up.

“At least _my_ parents accept me for who I am.” I snap, struggling to keep my temper under control. “ _They_ understand that there’s nothing wrong with Dave and me.”

“You’re just confused. Our priest can help you two with that confusion; make the right choice.”

“What?! Being gay is not a choice!” I argue.

Then, something that I haven’t expected happens. Dave finally grows some balls to stand up to his parents. He takes me by the hand and we both get up from his bed, so that we stand in front of them.

“He’s right, dad. There’s nothing you can say that will make me change my mind. I love a boy and you can’t do anything about it.”

“But I don’t want you to sin with him!” his father says, and I flinch when he raises his voice.

“We are not sinning, dad!” Dave yells.

Fuck, I’ve never heard him yell like this before; I didn’t even think he could get this angry.

“Yes, you are! Being with a boy goes against God’s wishes, and you know it!”

“I don’t care!”

“You should!”

“Oh, you know what? We fucking are sinning! Chester and I have been together for months, what do you think we’re doing when I sleep over at his parents’ house? Huh?!”

I’m standing by, holding Dave’s hand tightly. There are so many things I want to say right now, but I keep my mouth shut because I don’t want to be the reason for more trouble. Squeezing his hand, I hope that Dave understands what I want to tell him. _Don’t say anything you’ll regret._

“I can’t even look at you right now, David. You think your mother and I don’t know what you do with him? You think I haven’t prayed for you to come to your senses? You are a – “

“Thomas, that’s enough.” Dave’s mom interrupts. “We should talk about this alone.”

He doesn’t look like he agrees, but at least he stops yelling at his son now. I really thought this day would go differently. I thought both of his parents were ready to accept us, but it doesn’t look that way.

“And you.” Mr. Farrell says to me, looking at me accusingly as I squeeze Dave’s hand tighter. “You better go home. I don’t want to see you in my house again.”

Before I can come up with a sassy reply, Dave pulls on my wrist, telling me that he’ll walk me to the door.

“Chazzy, I’m so sorry about them. I don’t know how to make them understand…” Dave says quietly when we’re downstairs in the hallway, standing in front of the door.

“Tell them about my parents. Tell them that my dad also couldn’t understand it at first. Maybe that will help.”

He nods and pulls me in a hug, right here in the open. “I thought we wanted to be careful around here.”

“Ugh, I don’t care anymore. If dad sees and hates me more, I don’t give a damn. It can’t get much worse now.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t hate you. He’s still your dad.”

“Yeah, I guess so. But there’s just no way to talk to him!”

“Just be strong, baby. I love you.”

“I love you, too. So…I guess I’ll see you on Wednesday?”

“Um, yeah. I still have to give your Christmas present.” I say cheekily as I wrap my arms around his middle.

“Ohhh, I’m getting a present?”

“Sure. Don’t be so surprised, you knew I’d get you something.”

“Well, to be honest, I got you a little something, too.” he smirks.

“I knew it!” I reply, hoping that his bad mood will go away when we talk about Christmas. “So, until Wednesday, babe.”

To my surprise, he sneaks me a little kiss right here in the hallway, and for a second we don’t care if anyone could see us. We say our goodbyes, and then I’m on my way home.

xxxxx

When I come home after a much too long bus ride, my mood has dropped to zero. Actually, it’s less than zero; more like minus 500, to be exact. Once I had taken a seat in the bus, I had finally allowed myself to be angry. Angry at Dave’s parents for being so stubborn, and angry at myself for not being able to help. The entire ride home, my mind has yelled at me what a bad influence I am on Dave. Turning the key in the lock, I finally arrive at home, but even the smell of freshly baked cookies can’t cheer me up today. Fuck the world. It’s my fault that it got so out of control with Dave’s parents. My own fucking fault and I should have known better. If we hadn’t made out on his bed, none of this would have happened. I haven’t had any anxiety issues lately, but now they’re coming back with full force.

The only thing that cheers me up is the fact that Jason comes running towards me. God, I love my dog. He’s wagging his tail and running in little circles whenever one of us comes home, and no matter how long we have been gone, he always acts as if he hasn’t seen us in ten years. That’s how happy he is. I toe my shoes off and kick them into the corner before I kneel down and pet him.

“Heyyy, Jason, I’m home again! Who’s a good boy, hu? It’s you! You’re a good boy!” I say in that voice I only use with him.

“Hello, pumpkin!” mom calls from somewhere in the house.

“Hi.” I reply, not really in the mood to talk to anyone for the rest of the day, but after I’ve washed my hands, I go into the living room area anyway, because it would be impolite to immediately disappear in my room.

“How did it go?” dad asks from his place on the couch where he’s reading a book.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” I mumble.

“Not well?”

“I said I don’t wanna talk about it!”

“Are you sure don’t want to tell us how – “ dad begins, but I already shake my head.

“Oh, pumpkin, it’s gonna be okay.” Mom says as she comes join us.

“Do we have cookies?” I ask her, peeking into the kitchen.

“Not yet, they’re still in the oven, and the first batch is cooling down.”

“Hm, fine. I’ll go to my room.”

“Of course.”

Jason follows me upstairs where I grab my diary and turn on the stereo before I sit down on the floor with my back to the side of my bed. With my dog lying next to me and my favorite music playing, I do feel a little better. I’m scribbling in my diary while I pet Jason’s fluffy ears, singing along to the music. After a while, Mike comes in, unsurprisingly without knocking. I know it’s him, even though I haven’t looked up from my diary.

“Get out!” I immediately say because I just want to be left alone until tomorrow.

“What happened?” he asks, unimpressed by my bad mood.

“Nothing. Leave me alone!”

“That bad?”

“I said leave me alone.”

“Sure, princess.” he teases, but I’m not in the mood for bantering.

Fuck, from the moment he heard Dave call me princess I knew he’d use it to tease me. _Not today, Mike. Not today._

“Go fuck yourself.” I whisper under my breath.

“Ohhh, princess is pissed.”

“Do you want me to smack you in the face?!” I ask, finally looking up from my diary.

Just then, I see that he must have been painting, because he’s got turquoise, red and blue paint on his face, his shirt and his right hand.

“Not really, no.” he retorts, sitting down next to me.

Jason barks at him softly to greet him, and Mike pets his head with the hand that isn’t color stained. Suddenly, I’ve got an idea how to pay him back and cheer myself up a little.

“You’ve got paint on your shirt.” “Really? Where?”

“Right there.” I say, pointing to the still wet, navy blue stain on his chest.

Of course, he falls for it and looks down, and in a split second, I have smeared my index finger through the wet paint and then wiped it on his chin.

“Hey!” he complains when I laugh at him.

Our bickering quickly does cheer me up, and after we’ve been to the bathroom to wash the drying paint off, I feel ready to tell my brother what happened at Dave’s parents’ house.

xxxxx

**Thanks for reading!**


	35. Chapter 35

Finally Wednesday. School was okay, and now I’m off to ballet practice, the absolute best part of my whole entire week. Last Monday was my last therapy session of the year, and I spent the entire hour ranting about Dave’s parents and how terribly my first meeting with them went. I’m so glad I have someone I can talk to about these things. Sure, I also told Mike about it, and my parents know a little bit about what happened, too, but telling it to my therapist is just different. I can also tell her how dirty and worthless I felt when Dave’s dad said he didn’t want to see me in his house again, and how messed up my brain was when I thought about it on the way back home. Those are the things I don’t want to tell my family, because I don’t want them to worry.

However, there is one positive thing; the breathing and mindfulness exercises seem to help me with my anxiety, which is why she said that if it keeps getting better, I most likely won’t have to take anxiety medication. I can feel that I’m in fact calmer than I used to be, and that this also helps me with focusing at school. The math exam was returned, and to my surprise, I had a solid C. Yes, it was nothing against Mike’s A, but mom and dad were beyond proud of me. They told me that now I could see that hard work pays off, and for once, I managed to be proud of myself. Even the teacher was surprised, asking me how I managed to go from an F in the test to a C in the actual exam that counts for the final grade. I told him that I just studied this time, and then, to my horror, he told the class that even the worst students could improve, and used me as a good example. Oh my, I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. I’ve never been good at math, much less being a ‘good example’ in any school related activity…

We’ve gotten the results of all the first exams of the schoolyear, and I have to say that I did pretty well. Mom and dad said that I still have to keep studying, though, but that they’re proud of the way my grades improved.

But anyway, this Sunday will be Christmas, which is why Friday after school, we will take a flight to Portland where our grandparents live. Just like most times, we’ll spend almost two weeks there over Christmas and New Years before school starts again. Our parents always take several leave days from work during the holidays, or even work from home during that time. The flight takes only a little over two hours, so we can take Jason with us, too. I wouldn’t want the neighbors to take care of him; he’s a family member and he comes with us wherever we go. Our grandparents love having us as guests in their house, and honestly, Mike and I can’t wait to see them again.

Currently I’m changing clothes at the ballet studio, impatient to give Dave his present after class, and to talk to him about what happened with his parents. He hasn’t arrived yet, but I know he’ll be here any minute. He called me yesterday evening, explaining that he has tried to reason with his parents, tried to explain to them that being gay is not an illness, that it doesn’t have to be cured or talked about in church. He said that his mom was actually listening, but that his dad’s still not open to the idea of having a gay son. I guess it’s gonna be difficult with him…

Oh! There he is! Finally. This will be the last time we’ll see each other this year, and I hope he’ll like the present. Oh, who am I kidding, of course he’ll like it. Soon, it’s time for ballet practice to begin, and despite of the shitty situation with Dave’s parents, I’m in an unusual good mood. Christmas is coming, I’ve been doing good at school, and the theater class yesterday was amazing, too. Early next year the teacher will decide on who gets the leading male role in the play we will perform in the summer. So far I’ve been doing everything I could to convince the two teachers who lead the class that I’m the best choice for the role. Last week we did an exercise that involved singing, and while some of the people in the theater class were too ashamed to sing in front of the group, and others did sing but it didn’t sound that good, I absolutely nailed it. I sang the fuck out of that song, and I guess this increases my chances to get the leading role, since there will also be a singing part in the play. It sounds a little arrogant, but I think I was even better than that one girl in the theater group who claimed she’s been taking singing lessons for three years…

During ballet practice, time flies as it always does when I’m having fun, and sooner than I thought, the class is over. Well, at least Dave and I can exchange presents now before we part ways again.

“How did you get that cut?” he asks me while we’re in the changing room, pointing to the small red cut on my underarm.

“Oh, that. I was cutting wrapping paper to wrap your present, and…well, you know how I am. Wasn’t careful enough and accidently cut myself. But it’s fine, nothing happened.” I explain while I’m thinking back to last night when I remembered that I still had to wrap his present at about 10 PM when I was actually going to get ready for my daily stretching before bed.

xxxxx

_“Don’t you run with scissors, son!” mom calls as I come running down the stairs in search of the red and golden wrapping paper she has bought last week._

_I’m holding the scissors in one hand, and Dave’s present in the other._

_“Come on, I’m not a kid anymore.”_

_“You’re going to hurt someone if you keep that up, Chester.”_

_“Mom, please, I’m not 3, I can hold scissors without hurting anyone.” I reply, rolling my eyes and walking away to the dresser in the hallway where I know she keeps all the decorating stuff. Just two minutes later, while I’m hastily wrapping Dave’s gift, fumbling with these damned scissors for right-handed people, I somehow manage to cut myself with them._

_“Ow! Fucking hell…” I hiss under my breath._

_“I told you so!” I hear her shout from the living room. “Do you need any help, pumpkin?”_

_“Noooo, mom, I can do it on my own, jeez…”_

xxxxx

“Always clumsy, aren’t you?” he laughs, kissing me on the cheek right here in the changing room because we know the girls don’t mind, anyway. To be honest I think some of them are rather curious about our relationship…

“Yeah…can’t help it.” I reply, grinning at him. “So, anyway, um…I’ve got something for you.” I say as I retrieve his Christmas present from the depths of my backpack. “Merry Christmas, Dave. But you can’t see it yet, I want you to open it on Christmas morning with the rest of your presents.”

“Merry Christmas, Chaz. Don’t open yours yet, either.” he says back as we exchange gifts.

I’m anxious to find out what hides in the small silver and blue wrapped box, but I’ll be patient until Christmas morning at my grandparents’ house. Later, we exchange a few kisses before going home. Oh boy, I can’t wait to open his present! Now it’s only two more days of school and then, finally, my favorite time of the whole year will be there.

xxxxx

It’s Friday evening, about 9 PM, and we just landed it Portland. Our grandparents own a nice, cozy house in a small town that is about one hour drive away from the airport. I love it there, and it’s been like that since the first time I’ve been to their house. When I had just lived with Mike and our parents for one month, we spent my first Christmas at our house, and mom’s parents came to visit us, but every Christmas and most Thanksgivings since then have been celebrated at their house. Of course, the first time meeting them was a little awkward because they had suddenly gained a second grandchild, and to be honest I still think that at first, they weren’t so pleased that mom and dad adopted me after knowing me only for a few months, but mom explained it all and soon, I had the feeling that they started accepting me as the new part of the family. By now, I’m sure that they love me like they love Mike. Having grandparents was such a strange concept to me at first, but now spending time at their house has become perfectly normal, and when I’m there, I feel as safe and wanted there as at home.

My grandparents are Walter and Rosie, who live in a house near the forest. In my opinion, it’s a typical ‘grandparents-house’. It has everything that I had imagined as a child when I had thought about what it would be like to have a big, functioning family. The house isn’t too big, but still big enough for a few guests. It has a fireplace, a nice, small garden, and carpet on the stairs, and whenever we’re there, it smells like freshly baked cookies, no matter the season. There’s a lot of nature around, which I love. We’ve been hiking, fishing, camping and doing winter sports. Yes, I like the heat in California, but still, December at my grandparents’ house is my favorite season. I secretly love the snow and the cold, and most of all, the cozy atmosphere when we come home, sit by the fireplace and drink hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows. There’s a lot of wood in the house; wooden floors, ceilings and partly even the walls, but I think it looks good. There’s even some wood in the two bathrooms, which is just a little weird.

It’s not the house mom grew up in, though. They got the house around ten years ago when they moved to Oregon, because they wanted to live closer to nature. There are dark, fluffy rugs in almost every room, and above the fireplace, there’s a huge deer’s skull with antlers on the wall, which I don’t really know how to feel about, but I guess it’s just part of the house. Like our house in L.A., there are lots and lots of Christmas decorations everywhere. I fucking love it. Mom, and as it seems grandma, too, are really into premature Christmas decorating, because I already know that she has put up the fairy lights and the other stuff right after Thanksgiving. Okay, maybe a few days later, since they came over to spent Thanksgiving with us this year. However, I have to admit that I love fairy lights, too. I love them so much that I have them in my room all year, decorating the ceiling above my bed.

When grandpa is picking all of us up at the airport, we have to go through a lot of hugging and questions about if we’re doing well at school. Also, he seems to not want to admit to himself that we’re getting older, which is why almost every time he sees us, he greets us with “there are the little rascals!”. I don’t care, though. I like having grandparents.

As we drive to their house I wonder how he manages to fit us, our luggage, and Jason in the car, but I’m not gonna question it. I’m always guilty of packing too much for a few days, at least that’s what Mike says. In my defense, we’ll be there almost two weeks! I need all the clothes I packed, I really do. Plus, there’s snow here, so the warmer clothes take up more space than thin t-shirts, as well.

As soon as we have gotten our luggage out of the car and into the house, it’s time for catching up on everything that’s happened since the last time we saw them. And it’s not like mom and grandma wouldn’t talk on the phone at least once a week, so that they’re always up to date about our lives, but as soon as we sit down at the dinner table to eat, it seems like everyone is talking at the same time. School, work, relationships, neighborhood gossip, just everything that happens in their and our lives comes up while we eat. Of course, mom told them that I’m in a relationship with a boy, but they don’t seem to mind. They’re already in their late sixties, but they’re really open-minded, which I appreciate. I wouldn’t want to have another incident like with Dave’s parents.

The next day, Mike and I go out to have a snowball fight in the garden. Whenever we’re here, it’s like we go back in time and are suddenly 12 years old again, and while I’m running after Mike, throwing a snowball that hits the back of his head, I forget all about the disaster that went down one week ago, at least for a while. We have to share a room in this house, but it doesn’t bother us, because it feels like we’re on a class trip, which is always fun. Sharing a room always leads to talking until it’s early, and joking around until we laugh so much that we can’t breathe anymore. I love it, and I know that he does, too. There’s a small but very comfortable bed on either side of the room, and a fluffy rug between those beds. The room has a huge window with really old-fashioned curtains that have a questionable moose and bear print, but the view into the garden and the forest behind it make up for it. The cream white and dark green sheets on the bed are so fluffy and warm that I never want to get out of bed ever again, and even the weird pattern of fir trees and bears doesn’t bother me.

Mom and dad sleep in the second bedroom that is on the same floor as our room, while our grandparents sleep downstairs. All of the rooms have a large, wooden dresser with forest animals carved into the wood. Grandpa made them all by himself, because building things made of wood has been his hobby even before he retired. I gotta say he’s really good at it, and once in a while, he even sells some of the furniture he builds to the neighbors. He’s been trying to teach Mike and me how to work with wood, too, but whilst Mike is pretty good at it, I almost sawed my finger off a few years ago. It’s fun, anyway, and I managed to carve a small figure of a badass looking grizzly bear that sits on my desk at home. Fine, it only looks like a grizzly bear when you know it’s supposed to be one, but I like it.

xxxxx

While Donna and her mother were sitting on the couch, talking about life, she was watching Mike and Chester having one of their legendary snowball fights outside the window. Donna loved the smell inside the house; the typical smell of the familiar cookies reminded her of her childhood. Rosie was currently knitting a pullover for the knitting group she attended twice a week, asking her daughter about how her sons were doing. Walter and Muto were in the garage that Walter used as a room for his wood working projects, and while Donna answered her mother’s questions, she had to think back to a conversation that had taken place on this very couch four years ago.

_“Don’t you think they’re fighting a little too wildly?” Rosie asked, smiling at the way Mike and Chester were wrestling in the snow outside and throwing snow in each other’s faces._

_“No, they’re just being boys. You should see them at home. They don’t mean any harm for each other, it’s just fun for them, but every little argument can turn into something like that. Just two weeks ago we were sitting in the living room, watching TV together in the evening. Muto was on a work trip…some law conference, so I had them for a whole week on my own. And I left the room for five minutes to make some snacks, and when I came back, I found them on the floor, wrestling and fighting over whose turn it was to hold the TV remote.”_

_Rosie laughed at that, looking out of the window where her grandsons were currently jumping from a tree into a huge pile of snow they had built. It reminded her of the way Donna had been as a child. “So…you told me you and Muto finally found a therapist for Chester? How’s that going? I can imagine he doesn’t like the idea.”_

_“He absolutely hates it. So far, he’s been there twice, and he hasn’t spoken a single word with her.”_

_“He’s stubborn.”_

_“Yes, he is.”_

_“How do you plan on changing that?”_

_“I don’t know yet…” Donna sighed._

_“His therapist has told us that he just needs time to warm up to her, and that when he feels safe, he will talk to her.”_

_“You’ve told me what happened to him, and that the man who did it has been killed, but I don’t even want to think about how someone can treat a child like this.”_

_“Yes…sometimes, Chester opens up more about what happened, and Muto and I try our best to make him feel safe with us, but I always get so angry when I’m alone and think about what has happened to him at such a young age. It’s not fair.”_

_“No, it’s not.”_

_“Did you know that he didn’t celebrate anything when he lived with this man? Not Christmas, not his birthday, nothing. He wasn’t allowed to go trick or treating with the other kids on Halloween. I don’t really know how his life was when his mother was still alive, though. He doesn’t talk about her often. The only thing I have managed to get out of him is that she was sometimes able to calm Steven down when he was drunk and violent, but that he also hit her from time to time and that she tried to get away, but couldn’t. He was so young when she died, I think he just doesn’t remember much.”_

_“That is so sad, Donna.”_

_“It is. There was this incident last year when we put new pictures into our photo album, and it was the first time there were photos of Chester, too. You know how Muto is always quick to capture important moments with the camera, don’t you?”_

_“Oh, yes.”_

_“So that day, we also looked through some older photos, and I guess it was too much for Chester to see all of those moments from our and Michael’s lives. I hadn’t thought about it at all, I thought it would be fun for both of them to look at old photos, but apparently, I was wrong.”_

_“What happened?”_

_“Well, there were all kinds of photos of Michael growing up. From being a baby in the bathtub with lots of foam surrounding him, celebrating his first Christmas and such things…then him being older and sitting with a mall Santa, learning how to ride a bike, having his first day of school, photos like these, you know?”_

_“Yes. And I can imagine what it did to Chester.” Rosie said._

_“I really hadn’t thought about it at the time. He had smiled and laughed at the pictures, and joked around with Michael, but later that day, he went to bed early in a bad mood, and when I went to check on him, I found him sitting up in bed, clutching the photo album of the time when his mother was still alive. He keeps it in his room and doesn’t allow anyone to look inside. He just sat there and stared at the wall in front of him, it was scary. I could see that he’d been crying, and when I asked if he wanted to talk about it, he just shook his head and nothing I said could make him open up. He really needs to talk to the therapist we found…”_

_“He does. And he will, Donna. Don’t worry, I think he just needs time.”_

_“I know…it’s just so difficult sometimes. He’s come a long way since last year, but there are still days when he’s lost in his own thoughts and refuses to talk all day. I don’t know what to do anymore. It is weird for Chester to be quiet. Both of them are kind of…restless, I think. They always have to do something, but Michael for example can just sit and draw or work on some other art project for hours in silence. He can quietly sit there and solve a puzzle, or paint, but when Chester is quiet, I know that something is wrong.”_

_Rosie told her daughter to keep talking. She could feel that Donna needed to get this off her chest, and that, most of all, she needed someone to listen and give advice._

_“On the other hand, I think that Chester finally learns to be a little calmer, even if it’s just for a little while. Some time ago he and Michael were solving this huge 2000-piece puzzle you and dad got them on your last visit – “_

_“They solved it already? I thought for sure it would take them weeks.”_

_“They solved it in under a week. When Michael is focused on something he really wants to finish, we have to remind him to eat lunch and whatever else he has to do on a regular day. So, anyway, he and Chester were in the living room doing that puzzle the whole week, and I had taken home some work. I was going over some documents while the boys were solving the puzzle, and it was one of the few times that it was actually quiet in the living room while they were in there.”_

_“Really?”_

_“Yes. At first I could see that Chester was impatient to do something else, something that involved running around instead of sitting down and being focused. He’s got no patience when it comes to sitting still and paying attention to something that doesn’t really interest him. His teachers have complained about this to us.”_

_“But?”_

_“But after a while, I could see that the way Michael was completely focused and determined to finish the puzzle calmed Chester down, too. Suddenly it was quiet in the room, and let me tell you, it is rarely quiet when they are there. It was nice to see them so calm for a change.”_

_“Yes, I can imagine.”_

_“Before Chester’s first meeting with his therapist, Muto and I talked to her alone while the boys were at a friend’s house, and from what we told her about him, she said that children who tend to be a little restless and hyper active need periods of time when they can calm down and let their brain have some rest, but it seems so difficult for Chester to just calm down for a while. I really, really hope this therapy will help him.”_

_“I’m sure it will. Give him time, Donna.”_

_“I’m trying, mom, I’m trying…oh, but another thing I wanted to say was that also, he can motivate Michael to get away from his art projects and actually go do something outside. They balance each other out, and I think that’s wonderful.” “_

_It is. It seems to me that they really need each other.”_

_“Oh, they do. They get along so well that sometimes I think they are closer than actual siblings.”_

_After a brief pause, Rosie spoke up again. “It’s been more than a year since you and Muto took Chester in, but I still cannot get over the things you told me happened to him. It’s horrible.”_

_“It is, mom. He has told most of it to Michael, I believe, and once in a while he opens up about it to us, as well. I love how quickly he has gotten used to us as his parents, and I guess that being part of a real family is what helps him the most when it comes to dealing with his past. I’m sure he knows he can trust us and that we are nothing like the man he lived with before.”_

_“Yes, that’s definitely true. You and Muto are great with him and Michael. You’d adopt ten children if you could, wouldn’t you?” Rosie asked, smiling at her daughter who had always had such a big heart._

_“I would. It’s important to me that Chester learns what it’s like to be loved, to have parents he can rely on…it’s terrible that after his mother had passed, no one was there for him. He was alone with this violent man who didn’t care about him at all. No one comforted him when his mother died, no one was there for him when he felt alone and scared at night. We know there was a lot of damage already done to him, but we want to give him all of that back. We want to let him experience everything he has missed out on during his childhood.” “You should. He’s had to miss out on a lot of things.”_

_“He’s never even been to Disneyland, can you believe that? Our boys aren’t that little anymore, but we’re planning a trip to Disney next year, anyway. Michael is always shocked to hear about all the things Chester hasn’t done yet, because it’s just normal for him to go on vacation, to the movies, to the theater with us sometimes…for Chester, none of this was normal. Shortly after he had moved in with us, Muto took them to a baseball game, and Chester couldn’t stop talking about it for days because he had never been to one before. Now they go see a game whenever Muto’s work schedule allows it.”_

_“I’m so glad you show him all of this, Donna. You and Muto are great parents.”_

_“We’re trying to be. And…sometimes I forget that we are not his real parents. I mean…we feel like we are, but…it makes me so sad that an adorable little boy like Chester had to suffer so much for so many years. With adults who didn’t act like parents at all! From what he has told me about his biological mother I know that she was a drug addict. Yes, he surely has loved her, and I don’t even want to say she was a bad mother…but…”_

_“But you think that he has it better with you and Muto than he would have had it if his mother would still be alive?”_

_“To be honest…yes.”_

_“I understand. And I agree, by the way. You don’t have to feel bad for thinking this way.”_

_“I just keep thinking…how amazing would it have been for him and Michael to_ really _grow up together? From a younger age, I mean. How would it have been if we had taken him in sooner?”_

_“You’ll never know. You can only focus on the here and now and be the best mom you can be for your boys.”_

_“I know, I know. One of the things that became obvious to Muto and me after Chester had moved in with us was that, contrary to Michael, who starts wanting to be more independent from us and acts like being hugged is the most embarrassing thing ever, Chester seems to need the contact. Sometimes he’s like Michael, trying to act cool and adult, but most times, he’s so much more sensitive than Michael.”_

_“Yes, I noticed.”_

_“I always think he needs more affection than the average kid. As if he needs one hug more, you know?"_

_“That is totally understandable, considering he had no one to take care of him for so many years.”_

_“Hmhm…And, by the way, the adoption is still not fully completed, mom.” Donna added, finally coming to the topic she had wanted to talk about all this time._

_“Oh, what seems to be the problem?”_

_“I didn’t know this before, but an adoption process takes forever, apparently. Muto knows some important people because of his job, which is why we have been able to speed it up a little, but there are still some things we have to sort out. It will be officially completed next year, hopefully. Chester and Michael know that it still takes a while, but in their minds, Chester already became a part of our family that day when we decided he never had to go back to the trailer park, and that was more than a year ago. Chester tells people he was adopted when he was 11, because that’s just easier than explaining the whole thing.”_

_“I can understand why he does that. So, why does it take that long?”_

_Donna sighed before she answered; the following topic was one that had led to a huge argument and lots of tears at home. They had known it would eventually come to that, but only last week they had gotten a letter from social services saying that the visits would start soon._

_“Because…because, as always when you want to adopt a child, social services send out people to your home to evaluate the situation there. They come over and talk to the parents and the kids, they stay in the background and watch how a normal day in your household goes by, and after several visits, they decide if the adoption can happen, or not. The worst case scenario is that they decide Chester can’t stay with us…”_

_“Donna, listen to me. I am sure this won’t happen. They will realize that staying with you, Muto and Michael is the best for Chester. They won’t take him away from you.”_

_“Are you sure?”_

_“Yes, very sure. Why is this the first time you tell me about this? You haven’t said a word about it and you’ve been here for two days now. Plus, we talk on the phone every week.”_

_“I needed time to think about it on my own. We got the letter only just last week. He has lived with us for more than one year, and_ now _they decide that they have to evaluate our living situation?! Where were these people when his mother died? When he lived with this abusive child molester? Where, mom?”_

_“Shh, calm down. Everything will be fine.”_

_“You should have seen the tantrum he threw when we told him that there would be people coming to evaluate our situation at home, and that they would be the ones to decide about the adoption.”_

_“Oh my, I can’t even imagine what that feels like for him…”_

_“Yes. It keeps me up at night. Muto tells me not to worry too much, he tells me that it will all turn out well in the end.”_

_“And he is right.”_

_“What worries me the most is how Chester and Michael seem to push their fears about this aside. They don’t even talk about it, and usually they talk about everything. On the day the letter came and we told the boys about it, there was a lot of drama, but since then, they haven’t said a single word about it anymore. I think they even refuse to_ think _about it. I hope he talks to his therapist about this, too, once he decides to talk to her at all…”_

_“How many visits will there be?”_

_“I don’t know yet. Muto says it can vary, but of course we hope there will be only a few.”_

_“Do you want my advice on this?”_

_“Yes…”_

_“When they come, don’t try to act differently. Be yourself. Show them what a normal day in your family looks like, and they will quickly see what a great home he has with you and Muto.”_

_“But what if he has a bad day? What if he refuses to talk to them?”_

_“Everyone has bad days sometimes. I think what counts is that he sees you and Muto as his parents, that he found a brother in Michael and that he feels safe at home. I am sure they will see that.”_

_Donna nodded, worrying about the letter that had arrived a week ago. She found comfort in her mother’s advice, and in the things her husband had told her about how an adoption process usually happened, and she wanted to stay strong for her sons._

_“Last year, when Walter and I visited and met him for the first time, I could quickly tell that he has a kind heart. I admit that we were not convinced it was a good idea to adopt a child you and Muto had only known for a short time, but I realized that he’s a sweetheart.” Rosie said._

_“Oh, he can be the sweetest angel. Michael, too. Did you know that Chester likes to help me cook? It’s adorable. But, let me tell you, as soon as they leave the house, it’s as if they forget everything about good behavior that we’re trying to teach them. When they’re with their friends, they’re little devils, both of them. We’ve gotten more than one phone call from their school, and I don’t even want to imagine what they’ll be like when they get older.” Donna said, smiling as she thought about her little troublemakers._

_“You were like that, too. Do you remember?”_

_“I wasn’t as bad as them!” Donna defended herself, smiling. “At Halloween, Muto and I warned them about misbehaving, and that we’d be angry with them if they did anything other than collecting candy.”_

_“I can imagine that they_ did _do something else?”_

_Donna nodded, smiling to herself. “We have this one neighbor across the street who nobody likes.”_

_“Yes, you told me about him.” “_

_Exactly. The creepy one. He never hands out any candy to the children and we suspect that he hates people in general. So, we lectured the boys about behaving and not doing anything stupid, and they promised they’d collect candy with their friends and then come home. They were so sweet…so when they promised to behave, we let them go.”_

_“But?”_

_“The next day, when I went outside, our neighbor’s garden was littered with toilet paper and eggs. It could have been any kid in our neighborhood, but Muto and I knew our sons had done it. We should have checked the bags they took with them for the candy…I was so angry with them, and Muto even more. Yes, we dislike that neighbor, too, but Michael and Chester had egged his house, his car and his front yard, and yet they were standing in front of us as if they were the most innocent kids on earth.”_

_“How can you tell it really was them?”_

_“Because I_ know _my boys. Michael gave us the puppy eyes and Chester agreed when he promised they didn’t do it, but I could see in their eyes that they were lying. Both of them are really bad liars, and we all knew it was them who had egged our neighbor’s property, but they didn’t admit to anything. I can’t be angry with them for long, though. Muto scolded them a little, but we knew it wouldn’t affect them, anyway.”_

_“Go easy on them, someday they will grow out of pulling such pranks.”_

_“I really hope you’re right, mom. Also it was Chester's first time celebrating Halloween, so we let them get away with it, even though we were mad at them for lying and ruining our neighbor’s yard like this.”_

_“I hope Muto isn’t too strict with them? You know that I don’t see your boys that often, but what I do know is that your husband has always been a little…conservative. Even more than Walter and I am.”_

_“I know, I know…he insists that they need rules and learn the difference between what’s right and what’s wrong – and I agree with him on that, but…sometimes he’s overdoing it in my opinion.”_

_“Yes, I think so, too. But what exactly are the boys doing that is so wrong in his opinion?”_

_“To be honest it is more Chester than Michael who needs to learn about rules and respect. He and Michael are so close that Michael sometimes likes to forget what we taught him about that. Also, they are apparently a lot wilder and more disrespectful at school than at home.”_

_“Oh?”_

_“Chester refuses to respect teachers he doesn’t like, and talks back to them whenever he feels like it. Muto really hates it, and we’ve had to have a lot of conversations about behavior at school with the boys lately. But I still think that he’s the best father ever for my boys. You know, he’s not always strict with them. He can joke around with them and be a fun dad, too.”_

_“I’m glad to hear that. It’s important for your boys to have fun. And, Donna, don’t worry too much about those visits from social services…everything will be fine.”_

Donna snapped out of her memories when a snowball hit the window. _It’s crazy how fast these last five years have gone by_ , she thought, glad that after only five visits and a lot of paperwork, the adoption had been officially completed a few days before Chester’s 13th birthday.

xxxxx

Meanwhile, Muto and his father in law were admiring one of the pieces of furniture Walter had built in the garage, and as he went on and on about how relaxing wood working was, Muto’s thoughts drifted to something that had happened a while ago. Yes, he liked spending time with his father in law and listening to his stories, but sometimes he just talked too much, and suddenly he found himself remembering one Wednesday evening a few months ago, when he had gone downstairs into the basement where their small laundry room was located. He didn’t go there often, but that day, he had looked for a certain tie he wanted to wear the next day, and he had found it drying on the laundry rack after it had been washed because he had gotten a huge coffee stain on it. Not only did he find the tie he’d been looking for; no, he had also found, for the first time since Chester had told them about it, the ballet clothes he wore to his class.

It was a strange feeling to see the tight black leggings and the tank top in that weird silky material, and imagining his son in those clothes. He knew that the black ballet slippers were in a corner in Chester’s room, where he had seen them last week when they had a little talk about school, but he hadn’t said anything about them at the time. Muto wanted to be open-minded; he wanted to say ‘yes, my son does ballet and I don’t think that’s weird’, but there was still this voice of doubt in his head. Chester had hesitantly admitted that his ballet school had had a performance before the summer holidays had started, and next summer, Muto planned on going there. He’d ask Chester when the performance would take place and then he’d come see his son dance. Muto planned on being the best dad he could be, and that included attending ballet performances, even though he wasn’t really happy with it.

That day when he had seen the ballet clothes on the laundry rack, he’d been…surprised. Neither in a negative nor positive way; it had just been strange, but he wanted to overcome his doubts and finally be okay with the fact that Chester chose to do ballet instead of something that was more masculine.

_Donna has always said it – I am too prejudiced. She always tells me to be more open-minded. I’ll go watch the ballet performance next summer and show him that I support him,_ Muto thought, going back to admiring the wooden dresser his father in law was showing him.

Tomorrow morning would be finally Christmas, and Muto wanted to spend a peaceful holiday with his family.

xxxxx

**Thanks for reading!**


	36. Chapter 36

Yes! It’s Christmas morning! Even though Mike and I are getting older, we both still love Christmas with a passion, which means as soon as I wake up, I decide that Mike had to wake the fuck up, as well. As I take a look at the clock that’s hanging above the doorframe, I see that it’s only 7:30, but I get up anyway, opening the window and letting the freezing cold air inside.

“Ugh, Chaz…close the damn window…” Mike mumbles sleepily, but we don’t have time for sleeping anymore.

“Get up, Mike!”

“Nah…”

“It’s Christmas morning, you dork! Get your ass out of bed!” I tell him as I go into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

“But it’s sooo early!” he shouts as I close the bathroom door behind myself.

I know that I have time to shower and brush my teeth before he wakes up enough to get out of bed. It’s a quick shower, though, because I’m so hyped for today. I wait impatiently as Mike gets ready, and when we’re both showered and dressed, we make our way downstairs. Yesterday, I’ve placed the little box that Dave gave me under the tree, and Mike has put the black and gold wrapped box that Anna gave him under there, as well.

“I told you it’s too early!” Mike yawns as we go downstairs.

There’s no need to dress up here. Lots of families probably dress up at family gatherings like these, but not our family. We celebrate the holidays in this cozy-as-fuck house while wearing Christmas sweaters that grandma knit for us, and we don’t see the need to change into anything else than sweatpants unless we leave the house.

“I couldn’t sleep anymore.” I try to justify that I made him get up this early.

“Oh, and that means I have to get up, too?”

“Yeah.”

Unsurprisingly, everyone else is already awake and in the living room when Mike and I join them to eat breakfast. I think Mike starts feeling too grown up and too cool to celebrate Christmas with the family, and even though he still likes the holidays, I’m way more enthusiastic about Christmas than he is. We both know that’s because I never got to celebrate anything when I was a little kid, but we don’t talk about it. For now, I just want to unwrap presents and be happy. I always wonder why we don’t gain twenty pounds after two weeks of grandma’s cooking. I guess it’s because when we’re here, we do a lot of outdoor activities. Anyway, before we get to unwrap our presents, we eat breakfast. Today, on Christmas, it’s a little lighter than usually because we’ll have a real feast at dinner. I can’t wait for the turkey and the cranberry sauce…

“Get your hand out of the cookie jar, Michael! Those cookies are for _after_ breakfast!” mom reminds him as he tries to steal a handful of cookies from the bowl on the dresser behind him.

“Yes, Mike, get your hand out of the cookie jar!” I tease him, sticking my tongue out.

“Oh, let him have one, it’s Christmas” grandma says, and before anyone can react, I reach into the jar myself and take two cookies out of it, one for Mike and one for myself.

After breakfast, everyone heads over to the Christmas tree next to the fireplace where the presents are. They always have a real tree, not one of those fake plastic ones, so the living room smells heavenly. The tree is decorated in red and gold this year, and I think it looks amazing. We’re sitting around the tree in half a circle, so that everyone gets all of their presents at once. Mom and dad are first; Mike and I got them a gift coupon for a spa in our city, so they can take a break from us for a little while.

“Oh, that is so nice of you two!” mom says.

“Thank you, guys.” Dad adds, hugging us briefly.

“You’re welcome.” Mike replies, and I explain that we want to make up for being such terrible sons this year, but of course they tell us that we weren’t terrible, and that they appreciate the gift.

After our grandparents hand them an expensive bottle of wine and a beautifully wrapped set of fancy spices, it’s Mike’s turn to unwrap his presents. The first box he opens is of course the blue and silver one he got from Anna. I already know what’s inside because even though I wasn’t a huge fan of her in the beginning, we’ve become good friends over the years, which is why we went to the mall together one day to go gift shopping. She got him a new sketchbook and several different kinds of pencils, because we all know that Mike can complain about the wrong kind of pencil for hours. On the cover of the sketchbook there’s little note that says to open the first page. There, Anna has written Mike a short letter. I wrote Dave a letter as well, because Anna and I came up with this idea together when we were at the mall. Mike’s present for Anna consists of a mixtape of her favorite songs that he turned into something way cooler with the aid of that computer we’re supposed to share, and a book by her favorite author. She’s always happy to receive new books, since she wants to write one, too. Mike always tells me how sappy Dave and I are, but he and Anna are in fact much worse. He spent a lot of time on remixing those songs, and put most of the time he didn’t help me with math into working on it. Mom and dad got Mike some new art supplies, too, and our grandparents gift him the CD he asked for. I have the strong suspicion that I get a CD from them, too, because the little box that says ‘Chester’ in grandma’s handwriting looks just like the one for Mike.

Then, it’s my turn to open presents, and of course I open the one that Dave gave me, first. The present that he gets from me is something I made myself. When I was in the mall with Anna, I bought a photo album, and later that day I called Joe to ask him if I could take a look at the photos he made at Brad’s house party. The photo album I prepared for Dave contains some of the photos Joe told me I could keep, and, just like Annas present for Mike, a letter. I worked a lot on that photo album; picking the right photos and writing funny stuff next to them so that he can always remember our first party. Quickly opining the box he gave me last Wednesday, I get more and more excited. It turns out that he got me the spiky bracelets I described to him. In great detail, I have explained what the black leather bracelets with the silver spikes look like; the ones I already wanted to have last year. Dave and I haven’t been to that store mall together, but he has obviously found exactly the two bracelets I have described to him. I didn’t even tell him I wanted them for Christmas, all I did was tell him how fucking badass they looked. Oh! There’s a note in the package.

_Merry Christmas, Chaz. Love, Dave. PS: I hope you like your new badass bracelets._

While I’m reading what he wrote me, I can’t contain my smile. Damn, I love him. I can literally hear what dad thinks about the leather bracelets, but as I try them on, I feel over the tiny silver spikes, and I’m instantly in love with them. Fine, they don’t really match my Christmas sweater, but I don’t care. Then, dad can’t wait anymore to say something about the bracelets.

“You’re going to wear those?”

“Yes, of course.”

“In public?”

“Um, yes.” Focusing on the chocolate chip cookie he’s holding in his right hand, he obviously thinks deeply before he sighs and nods. “Fine. It’s your decision what to wear.”

“I know.” I reply, smirking.

He’ll forgive me the sass today, it’s Christmas. While everyone except Mike and me is eyeing the spiky bracelets as if they were fashion worn by aliens on another planet, I open the CD from my grandparents, and then it’s time for whatever mom and dad got me. There’s two packages, just like for Mike. The first one is a new leather bound diary with a fancy lock and a key, and the second is the microphone I asked for. I can plug it in and connect it to the computer in Mike’s room and record my songs in a decent quality. About two months ago, I found this awesome new music store on my way home from ballet, and the next day, I dragged Mike there to show him all the cool stuff I saw through the window. We checked the store out and quickly decided on a few things we absolutely needed. In the end, I thought it would be a cool idea to wish for the microphone for Christmas.

When I’m done unwrapping presents and thanking everyone, it’s our grandparents’ turn. Our parents got them a nice bottle of whiskey and one book for each of them, because they really love reading.

“Now, we have something special for both of you.” Dad tells Mike and me when everyone is finished unwrapping.

Mike and I look at each other, unsure what to expect. Before we can say something, dad retrieves a big envelope from its’ secret hiding place behind a sofa cushion. He and mom grin at each other, and I really have no idea what’s coming. When we open the envelope and see what’s inside, everyone bursts out laughing, including Mike and me. It’s our mugshots from our little trip to the police station this summer.

“Hahn made copies for me.” Dad explains, laughing. “I thought it might be a funny memory, now that this year is almost over.”

“Yes, now we can laugh about it.” Mom adds.

“Even I!” dad says while Mike and I laugh our asses of about my angry glare on the picture and his drunk expression.

They’re right; now we can laugh about it, so we do. Our make a few jokes about it, as well. I thought it would take years for us to be able to laugh about it, but no. Apparently, half a year is enough for our parents to forgive us and see something funny in the whole thing, instead of being angry about it for the rest of their lives. It sounds really corny and maybe a little stupid, but I love my family, especially in moments like this.

Later, Mike and I stuff ourselves with cookies and go for a long walk with Jason, who always enjoys being here, as well, at least I think so. We return to our grandparents’ house for a quick lunch, and then leave again until it’s time for dinner. There’s just so much to do here! The nature is beautiful, and we needed an excuse to leave the house, anyway. If we had stayed, we would have had to help in the kitchen, and that’s something we want to avoid at any cost. We have better things to do than washing the dishes and helping to cook. Although Mike has never been a big fan of cooking, unlike me, mom and grandma have successfully taught both of us how to cook even big meals like Thanksgiving dinner.

So, we took the old sleds out of the garage and will spend the time until dinner with acting like children who are sledding for the first time in their lives. Nobody knows us here, so we can be silly and childish all we want. Plus, being so active outside prevents me from thinking too much about how Dave is doing this Christmas. I hope he’s fine and his parents aren’t too terrible this year…

Underneath my warm jacket, I’m wearing the bracelets he gave me, and I plan on wearing them a lot at home, too, no matter what dad thinks.

Then, it’s finally dinner time. The meal grandma and mom cooked together is very similar to what we typically eat on Thanksgiving, which is a huge turkey with lots and lots of gravy, mashed sweet potatoes and other side dishes. We eat, drink, laugh, talk and tell stories, and keep sitting at the table even after everyone is finished eating. My grandparents do respect my decision to be in a relationship with a boy, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have any further questions. I guess they come from different times, when being straight was the only option, but contrary to Dave’s family, they don’t judge me or tell me I’m wrong, so I answer all of their questions and ignore how uncomfortable telling them about my personal life makes me.

xxxxx

About two hours after Christmas dinner, Chester needed a bit of alone time. Sometimes he felt as if his social battery was drained, and that he could only recharge with spending time on his own. As if his brain needed some peace and quiet after being on overdrive for hours. Sometimes he needed this kind of alone time after a few days, and sometimes it just took a few hours, like today. Although the day had been great, like every Christmas Mike and he spent there, but now he just wanted to be alone, so he excused himself to his family, saying that he’d be in the garden for a while, and then went to grab his coat, gloves, scarf and his black beanie. Too lazy and stubborn to change out of his sweatpants into something more appropriate for the cold and snowy weather outside, he put on his shoes and went to sit on his favorite spot in his grandparents’ back yard: the swing that was hanging from a big old tree. It was basically just a tire on a piece of rope that had been put there when Mike was little, but it was still a great place to sit and stare into the forest.

It was already dark outside, but the full moon and the lights from inside the house illuminated part of the garden enough to be able to see the outlines of the trees. Chester was facing away from the house, instead looking into the dark forest, trying to ground himself a little and keep his mind in order. For a long time, he just sat and watched the trees, until it eventually became too cold. He wasn’t ready to go back inside, though, so he started singing to himself, something that had always calmed him down. The song he was quietly singing was one that he had worked on for only a few weeks until he was satisfied with it, and had even consulted Mike on the melody, so they had spent some time in Mike’s room with Chester singing and Mike playing around on his keyboard.

_This is my December_

_This is my time of the year_

_This is my December_

_This is all so clear_

_This is my December_

_This is my snow covered home_

_This is my December_

_This is me all alone_

_And I_

_Just wish that I didn't feel like there was something I missed_

_And I_

_Take back all the things I said to make you feel like that_

_And I_

_Just wish that I didn't feel like there was something I missed_

_And I_

_Take back all the things that I said to you_

_And I'd Give it all away, just to have somewhere to go to_

_Give it all away, to have someone to come home to_

_This is my December_

_These are my snow covered dreams_

_This is me pretending_

_This is all I need_

_And I…_

“Chester?” he heard his mother’s voice behind him.

“Hu? What? I, I was…”

“I didn’t want to startle you, sorry.” she said, leaning against the tree.

_He’s got the voice of an angel, I wonder why he hates it when people hear him sing_ , she thought.

“No, no, it’s okay, mom. Just needed to be alone for a while.”

He always hated it when someone interrupted him when he was singing, and this was no exception. Singing was something he did in private, and something he only rarely allowed people to listen to. It was completely different when he did it on a stage, though, like in his theater group at school. He had felt so free during the last lesson when they had done a singing exercise. Now, however, he was glad for the darkness outside because this way, his mother wouldn’t see him blush.

“It’s getting cold, pumpkin. Come back inside.”

“I’m not cold.” he lied, cursing himself for wearing sweatpants in this weather.

“Grandma made hot chocolate.” Donna replied, knowing that would do the trick.

Chester looked up, suddenly very interested in coming back inside. “With marshmallows?”

“Yes. And cinnamon on top.” Donna smiled.

“Okayyy, I’ll come back inside.” Chester sighed.

Glad to have her son convinced with the offer of hot chocolate, Donna and Chester went back into the house, where he sat down on the couch, thinking that during his precious minutes of alone time, he had cleared his head to come up with a solution for the problem he had thought about for more than a week now. However, he knew he needed some advice.

From his place on the couch, he could overlook the whole living room. Jason the dog was peacefully sleeping on the rug in front of the fireplace, Mike and his father were playing chess at the couch table, sitting in opposite armchairs, and his mother and grandparents were debating some political issue they had seen on the news. Just like Donna had promised, all of them had a cup of hot chocolate standing next to them. With both hands wrapping around the cup, he sipped on the drink, just watching what was happening in the room.

_He’s being so quiet again. That can’t be good_ , Donna thought after a while. _He looks as if he’s spacing out._

“What are you thinking about, pumpkin?” she asked in a quiet tone when she had watched from the corner of her eye how Chester had spent the last twenty minutes swirling marshmallows around in hot chocolate and staring into the fireplace.

“Hu? Um, nothing.” he replied.

“You don’t look like it’s nothing.”

“I swear, it’s not important.”

“Okay, if you say so. But if you want to talk, I’m here.”

“Hmhm.” Chester mumbled, looking into his now empty cup. “It’s about Dave.” he blurted out after only a few moments of silence.

While he was playing chess with Michael, Muto had also paid attention to the conversation his wife and Chester had started. _How does she do it? She always gets him to talk so easily._

Chester had told only Mike about what had happened when he had had dinner with Dave and his parents last week; he hadn’t said much to his own parents about it. The only thing they knew was that it didn’t go as planned.

_Oh, now he wants to tell them? I’ve been telling him for a whole week to talk to them about it. At least to mom, she always knows what to do in such situations_ , Mike thought, looking up from the chessboard but staying quiet.

“What about David? Did you have a fight?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. It’s…well, it’s more about his parents.” Chester began, hesitantly telling only the most important parts of his visit to his boyfriend’s parents’ house last week. “…And then we were sitting on his bed and, uh, talking, when his mom walked in on us.”

“Talking?” Donna asked, knowing that her son and his boyfriend had certainly done something different than just talking to each other, but because she knew it made him uncomfortable, she didn’t say anything further about it.

“Yeah, just…talking. She made a scene about how being gay is wrong and all of that. Anyway, then his dad came in and yelled at Dave that we’re going is against god’s wishes…and when he was done yelling, he told me to go and that he never wants to see me in his house again.”

Mike was the only one in the room who knew what really happened when Dave’s parents had walked in, but he just shared a quick look with his brother and kept his mouth shut.

“This is terrible, Chester.” his grandmother said. “I hope you can resolve this situation.”

While everyone was giving their opinion and some advice, Chester studied his painted fingernails, occasionally looking up at the person who was speaking. By now, he felt confident enough to try out different colors, not just black and silver, so for the last few days his nails were painted in a dark shade of purple. It was so dark that it was almost black, and only his father and grandfather had commented on the color. Whilst Muto had complained that it was too colorful and not appropriate for a family gathering, Walter had just made a joke about it, and then the topic was over and done with.

“You said that David’s mother is a little less conservative?” Donna asked, snapping Chester out of his thoughts.

“Hmhm.”

“Then I have an idea.”

“You do?”

“I do. What do you think about meeting with her and David in a neutral location?”

“Neutral location?”

“A place where she can’t cause a scene and all of you can try to have a calm conversation.”

“Like where?”

“Maybe in a café or a diner? If you and David talk to her alone without his father, she might be more reasonable and open-minded.”

“Yeah, maybe…” Chester said, not totally convinced this was a good plan.

“I think it’s a great idea.” Mike added. The chess game with his father was interrupted for now, as everyone thought about a way to help his brother. “You and Dave can explain everything and then later, she might wanna talk to his dad about it and he comes around.”

“You haven’t met that guy! He’s a nightmare. That whole day was a nightmare. I swear, if I ever enter his house again and he starts that bullshit about needing Jesus and going to church, he can kiss my fucking – “

“Language, Chester.” Muto interrupted. “But I agree. I think you and David should meet with his mother and have a reasonable conversation.”

“You can’t reason with those people, dad.”

“You can reason with everyone. Just give it a try, okay?”

“Okay.” he eventually agreed, and soon, their conversation shifted to more lighthearted subjects.

xxxxx one week later

I can’t believe it’s already New Year’s. It’s a special holiday in our family because we celebrate it in the Japanese way. The whole thing is called shogatsu, according to dad. Mike’s and my grandparents are totally okay with celebrating it that way, mostly because it means mom makes our family’s recipe for chicken karaage, which is basically fried chicken with a fucking amazing sauce. We spent yesterday with traditionally cleaning the house and cooking the chicken, and in the evening we had a little bonenkai party where we celebrated the end of the year and ate dinner. Dad says that the purpose of such a party is to leave the worries of the old year behind.

Of course, we also set off some fireworks in the backyard, like every year. Dad explained that fireworks aren’t really a thing on new Year’s eve in Japan, but we’re doing it because it’s tradition here and it looks amazing. Also, we’re not in Japan, we’re in the middle of nowhere in fucking Oregon, and the fact that blowing things up is fun is also a factor. This morning we hiked up a nearby hill to watch the first sunset of the year, because every year on the first of January, we get up early and watch the sunset; it’s called hatsu-hinode. Mike and I spent the rest of the day until dinner like we did most of the days since we arrived here; with being outside when the weather was good, and playing boardgames and helping granddad with woodworking when the weather wasn’t as good. I love this little vacation every year. I know that as soon as we get back home and school will start again, I’ll have to go back to studying math with Mike and not having a lot of free time anymore. Mom and dad will get back to work, and life will get back to normal, but tonight, we celebrate that the new year has arrived, and I won’t think about that any further.

We celebrate a fucking lot in this family: birthdays, holidays, promotions, everything that is worth celebrating, but I think what I love the most is Christmas and New Year’s. As we all sit together and eat the mochi rice cake dad has helped grandma prepare, I’m a little more optimistic about the meeting with Dave and his mom. When we get home in two days, I’ll call him and tell him about my plan. Mike and I always get a little money on New Year’s, because that’s one of the traditions, as well, and with the 50 bucks each of us gets we can afford a whole fucking lot.

xxxxx

Two weeks later, life has indeed gone back to normal. I’m surprised how good my mental health has been in the past month, even though I didn’t have therapy over the winter break, and only had my first meeting a week after we had returned home. When we were at our grandparents house, I actually did the breathing exercises and the stretching before bed, even though I shared a room with Mike. He doesn’t laugh at me for having to do this routine, but I’m sure he still thinks it’s a little weird. In those few moments when I had a little alone time, I actually did the mindfulness exercise or sang to myself, which also helped.

The only thing that’s been on my mind constantly is the situation with Dave’s parents. We’ve talked on the phone, seen each other at ballet practice and in the youth center, but we haven’t really had much privacy. I need him to sleep over again, which will fortunately be next Saturday when Mike is at Anna’s parents’ house and spends the night there. Sadly, we won’t be alone. Mom and dad will be at home, too, since Mike and I haven’t regained our parent-free Friday nights, but at least there won’t be anyone in the room next to mine, and even if mom or dad come upstairs for whatever reason, I can be sure they won’t interrupt or make a scene.

Now it’s Sunday at around 11 am, and I’m on the bus on my way to the meeting with Dave and his mom, who has surprisingly agreed to talking with us. I’m not sure if Dave’s dad knows we’re doing this, and to be honest I don’t really care about him, anyway. We meet at the café where I’ve had my very first coffee, because it has become one of the places Dave and I meet frequently. Also, I have decided to not hide who I am in front of Dave’s parents; it won’t be like that time I came over to them for dinner. This time, I’m wearing the dark nailpolish, the black clothes and of course the spiky bracelets I got for Christmas. If his mom is already shocked about us being in a gay relationship, I might as well shock her even more with the way I usually dress. Hey, even dad has more or less accepted it by now.

Okay, I’m there. As I go in, I already see them sitting at a table next to the window, arguing in a quiet tone. Oh boy, wish me luck.


	37. Chapter 37

Chester walked into the café he had been to many times before, sometimes for a date with his boyfriend, and sometimes just to get his dose of coffee that he usually wasn’t allowed to get at home. He joined Dave and his mother Betty at the table, politely greeting her, and then hugging Dave and openly kissing him on the lips right there out in the open. Sitting down next to him, Chester ordered a simple coffee with milk and sugar, trying to not let it show how nervous he was about this meeting today.

“I’m really glad you agreed to coming today, Mrs. Farrell.”

_Damn, I’m always impressed how polite Chaz can be when he wants to…_ Dave thought, sipping on his own coffee.

“Nice to see you again, Chester.” she replied, but he could feel that she wasn’t really that excited about the meeting.

He felt her eyes on him as she obviously was conflicted about his appearance today.

“So, um…mom. Chaz and I wanted to meet with you to talk about our, our…um…” Dave began, unsure what to say.

“Our relationship.” Chester added, already feeling anxious.

_I hope this goes well. Don’t freak out. Stay calm, like dad said. Just stay calm and don’t lose it. You can do this. You are strong._

“Alright then, I’m listening.” Betty replied after a short moment of silence.

She loved her son, and she knew that her husband loved David, too, but her son’s decision to love a boy wasn’t easy for them to accept. She tried, though. She wanted to try. It had already been hard to let David attend that ridiculous ballet class he went to every Wednesday…

_And then he met_ him _there. Why can’t my son just be normal? Why can’t he be with a girl? I like Chester, though. He seems like a nice, well-educated boy, but…why does he dress like this? Is that nailpolish?! What are those hideous bracelets? Why doesn’t he want to go to church with us? It would do him good. He’s too wild, too crazy, too unusual for David. I want to understand them, I really do. But…it is not normal. It is not god’s wish. Thomas will never understand. He will never accept a gay son._

Over the next half hour or so, Chester and Dave explained and explained, talking about how they weren’t different than straight couples, about how they were in love just like a boy and a girl would be. After listening to them explain their situation and points of views, Betty was conflicted. She got their point that they were in love just like a straight couple, and somehow, she really liked Chester, despite of his quick temper and exaggerated use of swearwords, but the concept of a boy being with another boy instead of a girl just seemed wrong to her.

“Do you really not want to go to church with us? Just give it a try one time.”

“And listen to that priest talking about people like Dave and I deserving to burn in hell because we’re not normal? No, thanks.” Chester immediately replied, close to standing up and leaving.

“Well, it _is_ not normal.” Betty muttered under her breath as she took a sip from her coffee.

“Excuse me?!”

_Fuck, that’s what dad always says when Mike and I have screwed up again…and it was the exact same tone…oh boy._

“Is that really what you think, mom?” Dave asked, the disappointment obvious in his voice.

“It’s just hard for me! First you want to do ballet, then you meet a boy there and suddenly you’re…you’re…homosexual? How did this happen?”

“I’m not _suddenly_ gay, I’ve _always_ been gay! We talked about this before! I always knew! Doing ballet didn’t turn me gay, either! My friends don’t care about that, it’s just you and dad who act like it’s the end of the world!”

For a few seconds, Betty was speechless. Yes, they had talked about it before, and it had ended in yelling and door-slamming. She sighed, looking out of the window. She didn’t want to have this kind of conversation right here in the café, not at all…

“What do _your_ parents think about it?” she eventually asked Chester but was interrupted by her son.

“Mom, I already told you his parents are fine with it! They aren’t like you and dad!” he said quietly, but furiously.

“What do you mean by that? Tell me!”

And that was when Dave had enough. If Chester wouldn’t have placed a hand on his knee he would have jumped up from his seat, not caring about the other people in the café who were clearly watching the unusual conversation. “They are not as close-minded as you and dad! I’m tired of you and him always judging me! Always telling me what I do is wrong and sick! He doesn’t even talk to me at home anymore, but I know that’s what he thinks about me! What does it matter that I’m gay? Huh? What does it matter that I love a boy and he loves me back? There’s more love between us than there is between you and dad!”

“How dare you, David?!” Betty hissed, looking around and hoping there was nobody she knew. They were speaking in a quiet tone as to not attract too much attention, but it was obvious that there was an argument going on at the table.

_It’s been a mistake to meet in public…I don’t want all those people looking at us_ , Chester thought. He felt so bad for Dave, and he could see how obviously uncomfortable he was.

Chester felt as if he were on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He was chewing on the dark purple nails of his right hand while clutching his coffee mug with the other. _What’s with Dave? He rarely gets this mad. I can understand him, but…this is our favorite place to go apart from the youth center…I don’t want anything bad to happen here._

“And do you know what? I’m tired of that religious bullshit at home. I don’t care what dad thinks, I know that I can believe in god and be gay at the same time, no matter what he and our priest say. And I won’t come to church with you anymore, mom! I’m done with it! Fucking done!” Dave went on, finally telling his mother his true opinion in an angry, whispering tone.

Watching his boyfriend speak his mind, Chester drank his coffee, almost hiding behind the mug. He hadn’t expected the conversation to get out of hand this fast. Before anyone else could say something, he began to speak in a quiet and calm tone, hoping that they wouldn’t be thrown out of the café.

“My parents“, he began, finally answering Betty’s question, “support Dave and me. Dad wasn’t a fan of it at first, but we talked it out and now he understands me. My parents like having Dave over at our house. They respect him, and they respect my brother’s girlfriend. I’d like you to respect us, too.”

_I think mom and dad even warmed up to Dave faster than to Anna…_

_Maybe he’s right_ , Betty thought as her son’s boyfriend hesitantly told her stories about how his coming out to his parents went.

“We’re just asking you not to hate us.” Chester finished after minutes of talking while Dave had firmly held his hand.

“I don’t hate you.” Betty replied.

“What about dad?” Dave asked, still angry and disappointed with his mom’s reaction.

“He doesn’t hate you, either, son.”

“Yeah, right. He just ignores my existence at home and puts church brochures on my desk when I’m not there.” he shot back in a quiet, but spiteful voice.

“I can talk to him again.”

“You know that won’t work. He won’t ever accept me for who I am.”

“Maybe he will, if you talk to him calmly.”

“I did! You know I did that, mom! He doesn’t listen! He says everything I do is wrong!”

Betty sighed. She didn’t approve of her son’s tone earlier, and they’d have to talk about that later, but she also had noticed her husband’s behavior towards David lately. It had to stop. She wanted her family to return to normal, to be the way it had been before her son had announced he was gay and had a boyfriend. Before her husband had become so overly religious and conservative. They had always gone to church, had always believed in good and evil, always been a little more conservative than others, but lately it had become too much, even for her.

She appreciated Chester’s effort to convince her that being in a relationship with a boy was something normal, and David’s attempts to explain that he could believe and still be homosexual at the same time. However, she knew there would be another fight at home about him not wanting to go to church anymore. _Thomas will lose it. He will say terrible things to our son. But David has a point…maybe he can still believe in god and be gay. Maybe I can question the bible as Thomas interprets it._

Right then and there, Betty decided to support her son, to be on his side and try to convince her husband to respect David’s choices.

“You’re right”, she began. “He can be difficult sometimes, but I will talk to him again. And…Chester, thank you for telling me all those things about how your family reacted.”

_Yeah, and you better appreciate it, bitch,_ Chester thought, playing with the spikes on one of his bracelets. _Those things are fucking personal and I wouldn’t tell you any of it if it wasn’t for Dave…_

“I’m just trying to help.” he said, keeping his mouth shut about all the things he was feeling and thinking at the moment. He was angry, even though Dave’s mom seemed to understand them a little better now.

“So, what now, mom?” Dave asked. “Are you okay with me being gay, or not?”

Deciding to be the mom her son deserved, even though he got older and usually acted as if he didn’t need his parents at all anymore, Betty nodded.

“Yes. Yes, David. I guess I’m okay with it.” she replied, squeezing Dave’s hand gently and smiling at him. It went against her morals and her worldview to be open towards homosexuality, but for her son, she wanted to try changing her mind.

“Thanks, mom.”

“Thank you.” Chester added, holding Dave’s other hand.

_I’m so glad we’re in public where none of us could have made a scene or run off and slam doors_ , Dave thought, hoping that his mother wouldn’t hug him now in front of all those other people around who had certainly listened to their conversation, even though they had tried to talk quietly. _If we had talked at home, I would have yelled at her after five seconds…Earlier, I was ready to break those damn scones in half and throw them across the room…_

“We can talk more about this at home, okay?” Betty suggested.

“Ugh, fine. What about dad?”

“I’m not sure. I’m afraid it won’t be easy.” she sighed.

They paid for their coffees and left after almost two hours of discussion. Chester and Dave held hands on purpose while they exited the café, well aware that Betty was watching.

“What’s with the nail polish?” she blurted out, unable to not ask about it before they parted ways.

“What? You don’t like it, do you? You think it’s not normal?” Chester replied, not convinced that she would really take her son’s side in future arguments about his sexuality.

“I – that’s not what I said. I simply asked about it.” she said in a tense voice. She was willing to try accepting her gay son and his boyfriend, but nail polish on boys was not appropriate; it had bothered her this whole time.

“I paint my nails and I don’t care if anyone has a problem with it.”

“When you came over for dinner you looked…different.”

_He looked nicer. With normal clothes, unpainted nails and without those weird bracelets. And what in god’s name is that thing on his t-shirt and the pattern on his pants?!_

“Yeah, I did. But only because I wanted to make a good impression. Only because I wanted you to like me. I won’t do that anymore.” he announced, anger bubbling up inside of him.

“Could you pleaseee be a little nicer?” Dave whispered in his ear, but Chester wasn’t finished yet.

“And don’t think I didn’t see the way you looked at the bracelets earlier. They were a gift from Dave, did you know that? I wear whatever I want, and I don’t care if it looks weird to people like you!”

“Excuse me? Be a little more respectful, please.” Betty said as they arrived at her car. “I haven’t said anything about those bracelets. I admit that I don’t like them, but I won’t allow you to speak to me like this. If you want to come over again you should keep in mind that you cannot disrespect me and my husband like that.”

For a second, Chester realized that he should indeed be more respectful, but then he remembered how his boyfriend’s father had talked to him, which had been less than disrespectful. “Your husband made it pretty clear that I’m not welcome in his house anymore the last time I was there.” he snapped.

“Just stop it, dammit…” Dave whispered to himself. He wanted some peace for the rest of the day.

“Yes, I know. But maybe we can work something out. I am not the enemy, understood? Not anymore, at least. I’m accepting you. But you have to accept me, too.”

_I’m fucking ruining this_ , Chester thought. _It turned out so well back in the cafe, or at least better than I thought, but now I’m ruining this whole thing._

He exchanged a look with Dave, whose beautiful green eyes were literally pleading with him to play nice. He looked away for a few seconds, contemplating what to say.

“Sorry. I, I didn’t mean it like that.” he replied, torn between wanting to be rebellious, and wanting this day to turn out well for his boyfriend. He decided for the latter, keeping the advice his parents gave him in mind. “I do accept you. Really, I do.”

“It’s okay. We’ll work it out.” Betty replied, her eyes softening again. All of them had to try to accept and respect each other in this situation. “I will talk to Thomas again and we’ll see what happens.”

_The boy is nice. Different and obviously hot-headed, but nice. I think he has a kind heart underneath all that anger. Thomas didn’t really like him, though._

Even though Chester didn’t plan on visiting Dave’s parents’ house again any time soon, he agreed. “Sounds good, mam.” he mumbled, exchanging a sideways glance with Dave who had stayed quiet.

“Where can I drop you off?” Betty asked after a moment of silence.

“No, no…I can take the bus. You don’t have to drive me home.”

After a bit of discussion, Chester found himself on the backseat, sitting behind Dave instead of travelling home by bus. The ride wasn’t going to be very long, fortunately.

“Hey, um, mom…I was planning on sleeping over at Chester’s parents’ house next Friday. Is that okay?” Dave asked.

Betty frowned as she stopped at a red light. She didn’t like that her son and his boyfriend were already making sexual experiences. Such things were made for marriage. A marriage between a man and a woman. She couldn’t ban them from seeing each other, though, and she had a feeling they already had done more than kissing. Much more, but she didn’t want to think about it. Also, she had allowed him to stay over many times in the past. Back then, she had been angry with her son, but she and her husband had tried to avoid thinking about what he did when he stayed over at Chester’s place.

“We won’t be alone at home.” Chester added. “My parents will be home, too. My brother will be at his girlfriend’s, and my parents already said it’s okay. They said Dave is always welcome in our house.”

She almost missed the change to green as she thought about how to reply. _I don’t want them to be intimate with each other, but I can’t do anything against it. I told them I’d try to be more open-minded._

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“Um…playing videogames, hanging out…that kinda stuff.” Dave answered nervously.

“Hmhm.” Chester confirmed, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. A small, rebellious part of his brain had wanted to answer ‘fucking’, but he had wisely decided against this. _Don’t be stupid now. She has just started to become nicer._

“Fine. You can go. But you’ll come home after breakfast, clear?”

_I know they’ll do more than playing videogames. I know but I don’t want to know_.

“Yes, mom. Thanks.” Dave answered, happy that he could spend the night at his boyfriend’s place again after that fiasco with the party. What scared him was telling his father about not wanting to go to church anymore.

_I need to become more independent from my parents…isn’t there anything I can do to move out before I graduate high school? I should get a job and a small apartment for myself. I don’t want to live with them anymore, even though mom claims to be on my side now. Dad will always influence her decisions, always. He practically hates me, anyway. I think it will only get worse from now on…_

Chester navigated the way back to his home, and soon after, they arrived. He felt conflicted about today’s events, unsure what to believe.

xxxxx

Back at home, Chester wasn’t in the mood to talk. When he had kicked his shoes into their usual corner, he went into the kitchen to get a soda from the fridge.

“Oh, you’re home, pumpkin. How did it go?” his mom asked when she saw him.

Donna and Muto had been flipping through vacation brochures in order to plan the family trip to Japan next summer, and Mike had left about half an hour ago to take Jason the dog for a walk.

“It was okay…” Chester said, clearly not wanting to tell his parents anything about his meeting with Dave and his mother. He knew he had to, though. They wouldn’t stop asking unless he told them at least the basics.

“Just okay? Don’t you want to go into some details?” Muto asked.

“No.” Chester simply replied, pouring lemonade into the glass in front of him, not even looking in his parents’ direction.

“Okay, we’re here if you want to talk, son.”

“Hmhm.”

He wanted to go upstairs and be left alone until it was time for lunch. Afterwards, he’d have to finish all the homework and then go through studying math with his brother. Even though he’d always hated math and could never wrap his head around numbers, he had to admit that now that Mike helped him, he had gained more understanding for it, and even his teacher at school had noticed. Still, he dreaded the almost daily hour of Mike trying to be patient with him while he struggled to focus on what he had failed to understand at school.

_Math is fucking torture. Who even needs it later in life? I know I won’t._

Without another word, he left the kitchen and went upstairs to pout in his room for the next hour or so, until his mother announced it was time for lunch. He wasn’t hungry yet, anyway, since he’d had a coffee and nibbled on the scones in the café earlier. Turning on the stereo to listen to the CD he had gotten for Christmas, he let himself fall onto his bed and crossed his arms behind his head.

_I know that Dave and his parents have been to church this morning. It’s Sunday after all, so he and his mom must have told his father that after church, they’d have a meeting with me. I wonder what his dad thinks about his wife possibly changing her mind about Dave being gay. I can’t believe she’s on our side now…I don’t trust her yet. I never trust people easily._

Chester rolled on his right side, thinking about the conversation they had had at the café. He would have wished to have a few private moments with Dave, but that would have to wait until their next ballet lesson on Wednesday.

_Dave never really gets angry, he’s so much calmer than me, which is why I was surprised to see him talk like that to his mom earlier. Yes, he was speaking quietly, but I was sure he’d get up and yell at her. It took all my patience and will-power not to freak out in the café when she said that we’re not normal. I don’t get how he managed to get his feelings under control like this. When he told her about not wanting to go to church anymore, I was really surprised…_

_Something must have happened at church today, something that made him so angry that he refuses to go there again. I hate the relationship he has with his parents right now…he can’t tell them anything without having to worry they’ll get mad about it. His mom didn’t even know he gave me the bracelets for Christmas. He told me that he hid my gift to him in his backpack and opened it alone in his room instead of unwrapping it under the tree, like I asked him to. My parents knew what I was going to give him, they saw me preparing the photo album and showed interest in it. He told me he loved my present, but that his parents don’t know anything about it. I really hope it gets better with them._

_Earlier in the café, I was so glad that we didn’t sit at Dave’s and my usual table in the corner, but at a different one because ‘our’ table was already occupied. We’ve had dates there, we’ve had conversations about the most personal things there, we fed each other waffles and drank coffee for the very first time. We kissed at that table. We had our first small argument there and made up again over sandwiches and milkshakes. I wouldn’t want our table to be ruined with a conversation like we had this morning. I want it to stay a happy place._

Sighing, he turned back to lie on his back, humming along to the music and staring at the ceiling. He was tossing and turning, unable to find a position to chill in. He thought about his boyfriend, who probably was having a terrible fight with his father right now. I wanna be there for him, Chester thought as he angrily wiped a tear away.

_I always wonder how people can argue without tearing up at some point. If it had been me at Dave’s place, I would have most likely not been able to fight the tears, even though we were in public. It’s something I hate about myself. I don’t wanna be like that, but I can’t help it. I cry when I’m angry, so what? How do people have their emotions under control while arguing? I really need to know. The tears always come so easily for me, and I can’t do anything against it. What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve cried because of anger or disappointment, because of sadness and hopelessness, sometimes even because of happiness. Also out of embarrassment, once or twice, when I was alone in my room after a fight and I realized I’d been an ass about something and blamed myself for something that had gone wrong. God, I hate this so much. Sometimes it only takes a stupid argument about school, and I get choked up. Ugh._

_There are times when I wish I was more like Mike. Cool and calm. Rational, most of the times. Sure, living together as brothers made us see things about the other that our friends never get to see, embarrassing moments we wouldn’t want anyone to see. Fits of anger because of the stupidest reasons, yelling and crying and slamming doors, but while I get angry so easily, Mike has his feelings much better under control than I do._

_The point is that I hate how emotional I am, compared to everyone else I know. I almost flipped this morning in the café. How could Dave be so cool about everything? I really hope he calls me later today…I don’t want to wait until Wednesday. I’m looking forward to Friday, though. We’ll have a little privacy while Mike is not here, and mom and dad are downstairs. We’ve only had sex once so far, and that was at Brad’s party. I still hate that Dave and I have so little alone time._

Chester was now lying with his socked feet resting against the wall he shared with Mike’s room, the back of his head resting on the edge of the mattress. He had his arms crossed over his chest, still angry about this morning. The CD had stopped about 20 minutes ago, but he was too lazy and stubborn to get up and press ‘repeat’. It was one of those days where he’d want to be alone all day until he had made sense of his thoughts. His brain was on overdrive, trying to figure out if Dave’s mother had told the truth about accepting them, or if she had lied to avoid a scene in public.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

“WHAT?!” he asked in an annoyed tone.

“Come eat, pumpkin.” his mom said when she entered his room.

“I’m not hungry.”

“I want you to come downstairs, anyway.”

“No.”

“I called you three times. Now get up and come downstairs. And don’t act as if you hadn’t heard me.”

It was true. Chester had heard her call him for lunch, but he hadn’t reacted, hoping he could stay in his room. He knew she wouldn’t let him, though. His parents always insisted on having all the meals together as a family. Finally, he decided to look away from the white ceiling and looked at his mother who was standing in the doorway, waiting for him to do as she said.

“I won’t ask again, Chester.” Donna said, her voice soft but her message clear.

“Ughhhh, fine…” he groaned, turning the stereo off and following her downstairs although he really didn’t want to.

xxxxx

Finally it was Friday evening at around 6 PM. Mike had gone to Anna’s parents’ house right after school, and Chester had spent the afternoon at the youth center with Dave. _Every day without math is a good day_ , he thought. Now it was time to go home and have dinner. On Wednesday before and after ballet practice, they had had some time to discuss what had happened in the café on Sunday, and now, on their way home, they were looking forward to some alone time.

“You know, Chazzy, I’m really sorry that I couldn’t call you all week.”

“I know. You explained it on Wednesday. It’s okay, Dave. Really, it is.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I promise.” Chester assured Dave, even though he actually was a little mad at him.

He had waited and waited for Dave to call him, but no call came. Not on Sunday, not on Monday, and not on any other day this week. But because he knew what his boyfriend’s father thought of him, he was too scared to make the call himself, which was why they had only had a few minutes to talk on Wednesday. Today in the youth center they had argued, but somehow made up during the group therapy. It had been the first time that Chester had also opened up to the other people there, which he was kind of proud of.

He had confessed that he was mostly there as moral support for his boyfriend, but that he also had to say something, so he had talked about his thoughts considering the meeting with Dave’s mom, and how he was afraid to never be accepted by Dave’s family.

“Sooo, you said you told your parents everything about last Sunday?” Dave spoke into the silence.

_Chaz is still mad. I know him. He doesn’t want to be mad, but I know that his brain can sometimes be so messed up when he’s overthinking things. I was looking forward to today so much, I don’t want him to be angry with me. Not him, too._

“Yeah. I didn’t want to but they made me tell them. You know how they are. Always worrying.”

“I know. I’m not angry you told them, by the way. I’m just…I’m sorry I said I was mad about it on Wednesday.”

“It’s fine.” Chester replied, hoping they could drop the subject. “That’s just how they are…they always wanna know everything. And I’m sorry it got so bad with your dad on Sunday.”

After ballet practice, Dave had admitted to a terrible argument he had had with his father after he had told him he wouldn’t go to church anymore, and it had also been practically the only thing he and Chester had talked about all day in the youth center. His mother had indeed been on his side during the argument, but still, all he wanted was to be with Chester and think of something else for a while.

“You know that my parents will ask about it when we get home, don’t you?” Chester asked, reaching out to hold his boyfriend’s hand as they sat side by side in the bus.

“Yeah, I know…” Dave said, looking out of the window as he squeezed Chester’s hand in return.

He was thankful that Donna and Muto were so different than his own parents, and the fact that Chester had already told them about what had happened would help, too. They wouldn’t yell, or blame him.

xxxxx

After dinner, both Dave and Chester were relieved. Donna and Muto hadn’t asked too many questions about last Sunday, and instead, dinner had been a rather fun and relaxed experience while they ate yakitori, a traditional Japanese dish that Dave had grown to love, and salad. Of course they left some for Mike, who would come back tomorrow. _He’ll be crushed if he knew we ate yakitori without him_ , Chester thought, smiling to himself as he drowned his food in more than enough sauce.

Dave being over for dinner at Chester’s parents’ house was always nice, since he had gone through Muto’s typical questioning about how he was doing at school a long time ago. It had been a few months since that conversation, and he had made it out alive because he was a decent student with good grades. Also he didn’t have much trouble with the chopsticks anymore, and ate almost everything that Donna cooked, even though her cooking was so different than what he knew from his own mom.

Now that Chester’s parents were out to take the dog for his evening walk, he and Dave occupied the living room to play videogames. Sure, they could have used the alone time for something else, but both of them were still in a weird mood because of this week’s events. By the time Donna and Muto had been gone for about half an hour, the mood was still a little tense.

“You know I love you, right?” Dave asked, his eyes focused on the screen as he handled the controller that was usually Mike’s.

“Yeah, I know. I love you, too.” Chester replied, blaming himself for the situation with his boyfriend’s parents, and at the same time being mad that he couldn’t do more to help. He moved with the controller as he focused on the character he was playing on the spilt screen.

“Good. Then could you stop being mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not. It’s fine, okay? We talked to your mom, you came clean about the church issue at home, and now we can’t do anything else until your dad stops acting like a dick.”

“Then why are you sitting there, sulking like this?”

“I’m not sulking.”

Groaning, Dave rolled his eyes. He actually hated fighting. He was a peaceful person, who only lost his temper when something was truly bothering him. The issue about his sexuality had been the first and only to make him talk back to his parents, and yell at them. Before all of that had started, his family life had been relatively harmonic. Chester could be stubborn, and Dave knew that very well. He also knew that, contrary to him, Chester could fight with a passion, preferably with Mike. He hadn’t come here to fight though; he had come here to have a good time.

“Chaz…it’s not your fault my dad hates gay people. Can’t you see the bright side?”

_What fucking bright side? I only ever see the dark side of things. Dinner went really well, but now that I’m finally alone with Dave I can’t enjoy it. Maybe I was just too excited for tonight so now my psycho brain has to ruin it?_ Chester thought.

As they argued, the game went on and they pressed the buttons of the two grey controllers more forcefully minute by minute. So far, their relationship had been really peaceful and happy. Sure, they had had a few minor quarrels, but never had something serious happened. They were a team that rarely disagreed, and Dave was not about to change this.

“The bright side is that my mom likes you. She’s doing her best to accept me and us. She’s been on my side all week when I argued with dad.” he explained.

“Whatever…”

“God dammit, now stop being mad!”

“I’m not mad!” Chester snapped, tossing the controller onto the couch when he lost this round of the game.

“So you’re not mad at me, and I’m not mad you, correct?”

“I guess.” he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders and finally looking his boyfriend in the eyes, if only for a second.

_He’s so calm and reasonable, it freaks me out. It’s fucking infuriating._

Chester wasn’t even really angry, or pissed off or upset, no. The truth was that he was anxious, and had been all day. He was confused about last Sunday, and now that he had some privacy with his boyfriend after such a long time of never really being alone, he was nervous about what would happen later. The first and up until now only time they had had sex had been almost one month ago, and Chester wanted everything to be perfect later.

Dave tossed his controller aside, as well. The game was paused for now, and for half a minute he watched Chester sit on the couch, stare at the wall grumpily and look as if he wanted to say something.

“Listen, Chaz.” Dave began, shifting on the couch so that he sat on Chester’s lap, facing him. “I don’t wanna fight.”

“I don’t, either.” Chester whispered in return, the anxiety he had been feeling all day slowly decreasing.

“I was hoping we could just have a good time tonight, okay? I need a break from all the trouble at home.”

They shared a slow, gentle kiss in the privacy of the empty house, the soundtrack of the videogame in the background being the only noise. Since they didn’t know when Donna and Muto would return, they stopped themselves from going too far while making out on the couch, and instead chose to continue the game, now that both of them were in a much better mood. Chester could literally feel the anxiety leave his body as he leaned back into Dave’s embrace, sitting between his legs with his back to Dave’s chest as they grabbed the controllers and continued to play round after round until his parents came back home.

Chester thought back to the many times he and Mike had asked their parents if at least one of them could have a TV and a console in their room, so that they didn’t have to play in the living room, but every single time, the answer had been ‘no’. Chester knew that the probability of having a TV upstairs any time soon was as low as it could get, and he most likely had to wait until he could afford living on his own to get one in his bedroom. Just as Chester and Dave were taking a small break in between two levels, kissing and forgetting the world around them, they heard the key in the lock, forced to stop making out.

Soon, they decided to go upstairs to Chester’s room, and not much after they had sat down on his bed, they used their first real opportunity for alone time they had in weeks. The only light in the room came from the colorful Christmas lights on the ceiling above the bed as they slept together for the second time; just as prepared as last time, but in a much different setting than then.

Chester had been embarrassed to no end whilst buying lube and condoms in a nearby drugstore, and had stuffed the items into the plastic bag he had received at the checkout as quickly as possible. At home, he had put them into the drawer of his bedside table, hoping no one would look inside.

However, right here and now in his room as he made love to his boyfriend, he forgot all the troubles the previous week had brought. The shame he had felt in the store, the anxiety about tonight, the anger and frustration because of last Sunday, it all vanished in this very moment.

xxxxx

**Thanks for reading :)**


	38. Chapter 38

_Dear diary,_

_Last month, a lot has happened. My theater group at school went to see a musical, and it was really fucking awesome. It was so cool that I talked about it for almost two weeks at home. Also there were a few class tests that I did kinda well in, which once again, led to mom and dad tell me that hard work pays of and that I should always work like this for school. Ughhh…_

_Things with Dave are great, most of the time and despite of his dad, who still doesn’t like me at all. His mom is honestly trying to accept us, and she hasn’t said anything bad about him being gay. Dave thinks that she’s struggling with the whole thing, but that she’s trying hard to be nice. His dad’s opinion hasn’t changed, though. Dave says his parents’ marriage isn’t a happy one right now. I haven’t been to his house since that first time, but he’s a regular guest at my home. My parents are really supportive of us, and while his dad silently disagrees with Dave sleeping over once and again, his mom allows it. She picked him up a few weeks ago after he had stayed here, because she wanted to get to know my parents. Now, she and mom even talk on the phone once a week, and I think mom likes her, despite of their differences. Knowing the parents of their sons’ girl- and boyfriends is important to mom and dad, for whatever reason._

_It was Mike’s birthday last week, and we had a little party here. It didn’t get nearly as wild as on Brad’s party, but we had fun anyway, even without alcohol. Mom and dad would never allow that. Damn, I can’t wait until I’m 21. So, a few people came over while our parents were invited to some dinner party at dad’s colleague’s house. Joe was our DJ while his girlfriend took a few photos. She’s the only one so far who is allowed to touch his camera; he must really like her. We had food and drinks, played some fun party games, and around midnight, our parents came back home. They wouldn’t let us have a party and stay away overnight. Everyone except of Anna and Dave then went home, but it’s been really cool anyway. A few days before that, it was Dave’s birthday. I took him to that new waffle place near the park, and later, we went to the movies with the whole gang._

_Mike and I are trying to get mom and dad to allow us the completely parent-free Friday nights again, but we’re not sure if and when we’ll get to have that kinda freedom again. We would have loved to have a bigger party, but in the end, it was just our closest friends, their girlfriends, and some of our other buddies from school. Next month, I’ll be 17, too, and I really wanna have a bigger party then. We’ll see how that will turn out…maybe if I’m really good at school and behave at home, they’ll allow it._

_Now to the most important part: The absolute best thing that has happened recently was last week. All the roles of our school play were announced. I DID IT! They gave me the leading male role! That’s all I wanted this school year! Screw grades and tests, the most important event will be the play at the end of the year. Of course, mom and dad don’t see it like that, and they’ll lecture me on how school is more important, but I don’t care. It will be a modern interpretation of Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo and Juliet’, which is such a cliché thing to do for schools. Plus, I’ll have to act all lovey-dovey with that weird girl from my theater class that got the leading female role, but I know I can do it._

_There will also be the performance of Dave’s and my ballet group in summer, so I’ll really have to balance my schoolwork and my hobbies…ugh, why doesn’t a day have more than 24 hours?!_

_Oh, another thing: my mental health has been more or less okay lately. The therapy, the breathing exercises and the mindfulness really help me, and I opened up a little more in the self-help group at the youth center, too, but sometimes, when it all gets too much or when I get flashbacks for whatever stupid fucking reason, I could just scream at myself. There was this one incident last Friday when Dave slept over…I wanna talk about it with Dr. Baker, but I don’t even know where to begin. It’s now Monday evening and my next appointment will only be next week. I talked about it with Dave, to some degree, but I was too embarrassed to go into details. He tries to be patient, though. He tries to understand._

_Until later._

xxxxx

I thought I’d never say this, but finally, god fucking finally my appointment is there. I have wrecked my brain all week, blaming and hating myself for what happened, while at the same time, I have kept my internal struggle to myself and not saying a word about it to anyone. I apologized to Dave and explained everything, and he promised it wasn’t a big deal. Mom has been bugging me on the way here, asking me why I’m acting so weird, but I told her that it’s none of her business.

Now I’m on my way from the door to the beige couch in Dr. Baker’s office, trying to gather my thoughts and telling her about the incident that has been on my mind constantly for the last ten days. To be honest, now that I think back to it, it even was a little funny. Not funny in that particular moment, of course, but Dave has promised me a million times that it’s okay and that he’s not mad.

“You seem tense, Chester.” Dr. Baker notices when I come in. “How were the previous two weeks for you?”

“Ugh, don’t start.” I reply, taking a seat on the couch.

“Just lie down and tell me about it, okay?”

I do just that, my hands folded over my stomach and my ankles crossed. Sighing, I close my eyes as I start telling her the quick version of how the past two weeks went, before I can’t avoid talking about ‘the incident’, as I like to call it. Dave says I overreact, but I don’t think so.

“What’s really bothering you?” she ask after I have told her almost everything that has happened lately and that keeps bugging me. “I can see that there’s something else.”

“It’s embarrassing…”

“Nothing is embarrassing here. There’s nothing we can’t talk about, it’s my job to help you.”

“I know, but…ugh, whatever. Fine. It…It’s about sex.” I admit, opening my eyes and focusing on the painting on the wall while I talk.

“Okay. I’m listening.” she says in a neutral tone, and I know that whatever I tell her will not leave this room.

I told her when Dave and I had sex for the first time, and how taking that step with him made me feel, mental-health-wise. Any other person would just think ‘okay, cool, I’m not a virgin anymore’, but me…my brain is more complicated. It blames me for stuff that is not my fault. It makes me question and overthink everything, sometimes it shames for my feelings, for my insecurities.

“I, um…Dave and I have been having sex for like, two months now, and, we…we talked about me trying to, you know, um, me trying to be on bottom for the first time.”

“That’s a big step for someone with your history.”

“Yeah…I, I know, but…we talked about it and I thought I was ready.” I say, spacing out for a minute.

“Continue.” she says, and I hear her scribbling down something in her notebook.

“Oh, um, sorry…Anyway, I thought I was ready, so we just, you know, tried it.” I begin, hesitantly telling her about the thing that’s been bothering me for almost two weeks now.

I haven’t said a single word about it to Mike or mom and dad, and I don’t plan on doing so. Sure, mom always tells me that I can talk to her about anything, but I just don’t want to. I’m really glad to have a therapist, because who else could I tell about such things? So, I tell her how my relationship with Dave has progressed, how we’ve become more and more intimate with each other, and how I breathed through sexual activities that I never thought I’d be able to do because of my past. I tell her how patient Dave is, and how he tries to understand my occasional panic attacks. I tell her how thankful I am to have met someone like him, someone who stops when I freak out and say no, someone who is willing to take things slow even though both of us actually want to make one new experience after another.

I’ve become more comfortable with the physical stuff over the last couple of months, and I have allowed him to touch me everywhere he wanted, I even enjoyed it, but this…this was too much, even though we had talked about it before and I was prepared for what we had planned.

“And then I, I…I guess I panicked. It was as if a switch was flipped in my brain and suddenly, I just wanted him to stop. I got that feeling I always get when I have a flashback, and my mind wasn’t with Dave in that moment. It was…it was back in that trailer when I was a little kid. I remember that Dave asked if everything was okay, but somehow, I couldn’t even speak at that time.”

“Okay. What happened next?”

I can’t help but laugh as I think back to that night in my room that was dimly lit by the Christmas lights on the ceiling. We always try to make it a little romantic, but there was nothing romantic about that night. It was awkward and embarrassing. Finally, I decide to answer my therapist.

“I donkey-kicked him in the face.”

“And how did that make you feel?” she asks after a long moment of silence.

“What do you think? I felt like a total idiot!”

I remember panicking and kicking him. Only his tip was inside of me, but it still made me totally freak out. He quickly slid out, and even that hurt like hell. It felt strange and I didn’t like the feeling at all. It was like an instinct, or a reflex, and suddenly, I felt like I had to defend myself. Dave stumbled back and fell off the bed, almost hitting his head on the wall. The whole thing went completely wrong, and we ended up awkwardly talking about it for like two minutes before I excused myself to the bathroom and stayed there for like half an hour so I wouldn’t have to face him. I was so glad Mike wasn’t home that night. He might have come over and asked what that noise had been…

Eventually, Dave went to the bathroom as well and later we just went to sleep with as much distance between us as possible. The next morning both of us apologized over and over, and when we saw each other again on Wednesday at ballet practice, I still felt the awkwardness between us. I tell all that to Dr. Baker, who asks me if we had already resolved the situation, and fortunately, I can tell her that we talked it out on the phone later that week.

“But you are still uncertain, aren’t you?”

“Yeah…what if he hates me now?”

“Why would he hate you?”

“Because I acted like an idiot. I apologized, and he did, too. He, he said it’s not my fault and that it’s okay that it didn’t go well this first time. That we can try again when I feel better, and that there’s other stuff we can do, but…I feel like I did something wrong. Like everything went so terrible because I’m too stupid to deal with my past.”

“Your trauma is not your fault, do you understand that?”

“Yes, but – “

“You need time. It can take months or years for you to be ready for this kind of intimacy.”

“I don’t want it to take so long! I wanna be normal like everyone else!”

“You have to accept that certain things will take longer for you than for other people. Don’t rush or put pressure on yourself. It takes time to build up enough trust to do this.”

“But I do trust him! And I pressure myself all the fucking time! I don’t know what to do anymore!” I rant, completely frustrated now.

“Are you still doing the mindfulness exercise?” she asks out of the blue, and I can hear the pen scraping over the paper of her notebook. I wonder what she’s writing down about my stupid ass…

“Um, yeah…”

“How often?”

“A few times a week…sometimes I skip a week.”

“I advised you to do the exercise every night to ground yourself.”

“Yes…I know. But my mental health has been okay lately and I thought it wouldn’t matter if I skipped it a few times.”

“No. You have to do the exercise regularly if you want it to work.”

Sighing dramatically, I look up at the ceiling, crossing my arms over my chest. “I know.”

“All you can do about the current situation is openly talking with Dave about your fears, as well as regularly doing the mindfulness and the breathing exercises. Don’t only do them when you feel anxious, do them every night. Did you give my suggestion about the medication another thought?”

“I don’t need medication!” I reply quickly. “I’m fine, really. I haven’t had a nightmare in months and the other issues have improved, too, I swear! I’ll do the mindfulness exercise more regularly now, and then everything will be even better.”

“Right now, I do not see a reason for medication, either, because you do seem to be healthier than the last time we talked about this, but if it gets worse, we might have to reconsider.”

“Ugh, fine…”

“Also, being dishonest about your mental health won’t help, either. I’ll know when you lie.”

“I’m not planning on lying about it.” I reply truthfully.

“Alright. We have a few more minutes and I don’t want you to leave my office as stressed out as you are right now. Breathe, focus on your surroundings and tell me five things you can see.”

At the end of the appointment, I feel more relaxed than I have in weeks. I almost fell asleep on that damn beige couch earlier, but at least I feel better now.

xxxxx

Two months later, Dave and I still haven’t given me being on bottom another try. It sounds stupid, but I’m scared to disappoint him again. Luckily, there are lots of other fun things we can do when we have some privacy, which isn’t that often. A lot has happened since that time I accidently kicked him and he fell off the bed. We’ve talked some more about my issues, and I love that he is so accepting of me and my weird psycho brain.

xxxxx

Last week I finally turned 17. Even though mom and dad didn’t allow a bigger party than Mike had, the day was just as cool. Mom made my favorite cake and in the evening when our friends came over, our parents even left us alone for a while and made a trip to the grocery store that turned out longer than I thought. Now it’s Saturday, and they finally use that spa gift card Mike and I gave them for Christmas. It’s a nice day in late March, and it’s getting warmer outside. I guess summer will come early this year.

Mom and dad will be gone until tomorrow evening, so as soon as Mike and I are done with math, we can do whatever we want. Sure, we could invite Dave and Anna, but Dave said he and his parents are visiting relatives today, and Anna is hanging out with Talinda in some nail salon, even though she hates this girly stuff. It’s always Talinda who drags her along to the mall for extensive shopping tours, to the nail salon, to whatever girly activity that even I would enjoy more than Anna does. Currently, Mike and I are sitting at the kitchen table, studying for the upcoming math test. Mom and dad have been gone for about twenty minutes now, and I can’t wait to be done with math for today.

“Mikeee, can we stop for today? The test is _next_ week, I’m sure I can do it.”

“Ugh, fine, but don’t complain if you don’t pass.”

“Jeez, Mike. I _will_ pass. You don’t have to act like dad every time we study.”

“What? I don’t act like dad!”

“Yeah, you do.” I say, grinning at him and slamming the textbook shut. “Come on, let’s go outside with Jason.”

“I’ve got a better idea. Come on.” he replies, gesturing for me to follow him to his room.

He opens the drawer under his bed, digging through stuff until he retrieves a small metal box with a lock. While I stand in the doorway and watch the scene in front of me, he finds a little key and opens the box. Inside there’s a tiny plastic bag that he carefully takes out of the box before he closes the drawer again.

“What’s this, Mike?” I ask as he hides the bag in the front pocket of his baggy pants and makes his way downstairs and into the backyard. On the way outside, he grabs the lighter mom always uses for the endless amount of candles she keeps in the house for decorating purposes.

“This” he finally answers as we sit on the bench, throwing a tennis ball to entertain our dog, “is what I got you for your birthday.”

“But…that was last week and you already gave me a present.”

“This is better.” he says, getting the little bag out of his pocket. “It’s kind of a present for both of us. I thought we could share it.”

Now that I finally get a good look at it, I see what it is.

“Mike? What the - ? Where did you get this?!”

“You remember Rob’s cousin? The one we met on his birthday?”

“The one who lives in San Francisco?”

“Yeah, him. So, uh…you remember when I got high on Brad’s party last year?”

“How could I forget?” I tease him.

“Oh, shut up. Anyway, after that party, I asked Rob if his cousin were in town anytime soon and if he had more. He said his cousin would visit on his birthday and that he could call him about my request. So, when it was Rob’s birthday in January, I, well, I…I bought this from him.”

“And you kept it hidden in your room since then?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” “What do you think, Chaz?! I needed mom and dad to not be here! So…do you…want to?”

“Fuck yeah!” I agree without hesitating even one second.

To be honest, I was jealous that he smoked without me at Brad’s party, but on the other hand I had been busy with something else back then. He rips the bag open and retrieves a pre-rolled joint. I’ve seen it before but I still can’t believe my eyes. Every time I think Mike has found his way back into the role of ‘the good son’, he comes up with stuff like this. He’s not as openly rebellious as I am, he doesn’t have this desire to be different, but once in a while he shocks me by saying that he can fake dad’s signature to get us out of trouble, by sneaking out in the middle of the night to do graffiti, or by getting high on a party.

He passes me the joint and I light it, acting cool as I take the first drag. I know that I don’t have to act cool in front of my own brother, but it feels weird that he has smoked weed before, and I haven’t. The first thing I do is coughing. _Fucking hell, I think I inhaled too deeply._

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” I say.

We continue playing fetch with Jason while we get high, inhaling the sweet, grassy smell. Somehow, I have lost all sense of time. At some point, I start feeling good, like…really good. Almost euphoric. I’ve never felt like that before. I feel…I feel relaxed. Mentally and physically at peace, even kinda sleepy. At the same time, everything is really funny. Hilarious even. We giggle about the stupidest things, we can’t fucking stop laughing.

Jason is sleeping under the big old tree by now, and the joint is gone. I have no idea how much time has passed…

Now, Mike is lying in the grass, giggling about the shape of some cloud he saw, and I chill on the wooden bench, lying on my back with my legs dangling over the backrest. In my current position I observe everything I see upside-down, and even that is for some reason funny to me. I stay silent for several moments, just hanging out here and experiencing my first high. _That cloud over there looks just like that huge ass squirrel Jason chased in the park the other day,_ I think. _But maybe I’m just hallucinating…_

“Mikeyyy?” I ask after a while.

“Huh?”

“You’re the best brother!”

“You, too! And you know what’s funny, Chaz?”

“What?”

“We’re not even related!” he giggles as I pass him the joint.

“That’s true!” I reply, laughing with him.

While I’m trying to shift into a different position, my accident-prone, clumsy and temporarily high ass manages to fall off of the bench, and I land face-first in the grass. I don’t really get hurt, fortunately. Mike and I are in such a silly mood that we just look at each other and burst out laughing. We keep laughing for the next few minutes, unable to stop.

_If dogs could speak, Jason would ask us what the fuck we’re doing_ , I suddenly think.

The thought vanishes in the next second as I think back to the time when Mike and I had the genius idea to become real brothers. We _wanted_ to be related. We had enough of ‘just’ being friends who lived together, enough of people telling us that we weren’t ‘real’ brothers. I was eleven years old back then, and it was the week after Mike’s twelfth birthday. After hearing someone talk about it at school, we had decided to become blood brothers, so one afternoon while mom and dad were doing some gardening, we took two of the knives mom used to chop vegetables with, and disappeared in the downstairs bathroom where most of the band-aids were located.

It was a stupid idea. We hadn’t even thought it through, we were just kids.

xxxxx

_“You ready?” Mike asks, the knife in his right hand as he presses it to his left palm._

_“Yeah.” I say, my own knife in hand._

_“Okay. Let’s count back from three.”_

_Nodding, I feel both fear and excitement as I press the little knife to my own palm, swallowing heavily because I’m so nervous._

_“Three…two…one.” we count together._

_Nothing happens. We both hesitated. I can see he’s just as nervous as I am._

_“Now, Mike. We can do it.” I try to encourage both of us, my voice shaking. I wanted to do this. I had instantly agreed when he had suggested to do this, but now I’m not so sure anymore. Or am I? I am sure. Right?_

_Before I can say anything else, he has already made a tiny cut on his palm, gasping and staring at the small wound. Fuck, it looks like it hurts more than I thought. In a split second, I decide to do it, anyway. Without knowing what I’m actually doing, I find myself quickly poking my hand with the tip of the knife until I see a little blood trickling out of the wound._

_“Ow!” I gasp louder than intended, unable to look away from my bleeding palm. We had planned on pressing our palms together to become blood brothers, but right now I can’t move. There’s more blood seeping out as I expected, much more blood. I don’t know what to do, so I wordlessly stare at Mike, who is also freaking out about the amount of blood he sees. Maybe we cut too deep?_

_“Shit, what do we do?!” he asks._

_“I, I, I don’t know!” I reply, panting as I see blood dripping onto the white bathroom rug. This isn’t as easy and harmless as we thought. “It’s fucking bleeding, Mike!”_

_“What’s going on here?” I hear mom’s voice from the corridor._

_Fuck._

_“Oh my god! What are you doing?! Muto, Muto, come quick!”_

xxxxx

“I’m hungry.” Mike says as his stomach rumbles loudly, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Me, too.” I realize, taking all the time in the world to get back up and making my way into the kitchen to find something to eat.

Mike and I didn’t become blood brothers on that day more than five years ago, and we didn’t try to do anything like this again since then. Mom threw those two knives we had used away; she said she didn’t want to see them again. I don’t like to think back to that incident, and Mike and I haven’t talked about it in years, probably because mom and dad made such a fuss about it back then.

My moment of clarity comes to an end when Mike and I decide to make ourselves cereal with milk, which is no easy task in our current state. We giggle a lot and spill most of the milk, ending up eating the sweet cereal whilst sitting on the kitchen floor.

xxxxx

The next day when I wake up, some of the memories of yesterday’s events come back. I don’t remember what happened after we ate the cereal, but now I see that I’m not in my bed. Apparently I slept on the couch in the clothes I wore yesterday, and what the fuck is that sound that woke me up?

I blindly reach for my glasses, finding them on the couch table. Ah, the sound is Mike, softly snoring and sleeping in the armchair nearby. Oh my god, I really hope mom and dad won’t come home early. I also hope none of the neighbors noticed that we smoked weed in the garden yesterday…I’m sure the smell attracted some attention.

I don’t know for how long we were under the weed’s influence, and what else happened yesterday. I have no idea what time it was when we made cereal, and I definitely don’t remember if we just hung out on the couch for the rest of the day or if we did anything productive. Did we take Jason for a walk? Did we clean up the kitchen? Did we miss any important phone calls? I force myself to leave the couch, kicking the thin blanket away. Mike is still sleeping deeply in a rather uncomfortable-looking position on the armchair. He still has his glasses on and the TV remote is resting on his belly.

There are empty yoghurt cups and chocolate bar wrappers lying around…I guess we didn’t manage to make ourselves dinner last night. I notice that the glass door to the back yard is closed, and that Jason the dog is drinking water out of his bowl on the floor, which means we did get something productive done yesterday. As I take a look at the clock, I see that it’s not even that late yet. It’s about half past ten, so we have more than enough time to clean up in here. I throw the garbage on the couch table away and tidy up the kitchen, the noise waking my brother up.

“Morning.” he mumbles as he gets up from the armchair.

“Morning, Mike.”

Once he’s awake enough to have a conversation, we talk about yesterday, and I’m glad to hear that he remembers much more than I do.

“So you’re saying that we really went outside with Jason while we were high?”

“I wasn’t high anymore, you were! And we went just around the block, we weren’t outside for long.”

“What if someone saw us?”

“Jeez, calm down. Nobody saw us, it was late.”

“Mike…why don’t I remember anything, but you do?”

“I heard that’s something that can happen. Don’t worry.”

“And where did you hear that? From your dealer?” I ask, smirking at him.

“Oh, jeez, Rob’s cousin is not my dealer. This was only the second time I smoked weed! Plus, we won’t be able to do it again anytime soon…”

“Yeah, I know…but it was really fucking cool.”

Suddenly, the phone rings, and I know that this must be Anna’s mom, asking if everything is alright at home. Mom asked her to check on us while she and dad are at the spa hotel. Although our parents trust us to be alone at home and take care of ourselves for some time, they apparently wanted someone to make sure we didn’t burn the house down. Mike goes to answer the phone, and they talk for a while before she hands the phone to Anna. Mike and her talk while I take a shower to clear my head.

After Mike hangs up the phone and goes to take a shower as well, I decide to wash the clothes we wore yesterday to get rid of the smell. Mom wanted to do laundry today, anyway. She won’t be suspicious when she sees that I did the laundry already, I think she’ll be grateful that she doesn’t have to do all the housework on her own. After Mike has gone into the garden to collect the remains of the joint and the tiny plastic bag, he ditches both items in the neighbor’s trash outside. This evening, when our parents come home, every last trace of evidence will be gone.

xxxxx

Even one full month later, mom and dad haven’t found out about the weed; it’s Mike’s and my secret. My memory of what we did the rest of the day came back, too, which I am really glad for. I almost freaked out when I woke up and couldn’t remember half the day before…

Currently, our backyard is under construction, because finally, after all those years, we’re getting a pool in the garden. Dad always wanted one, too, but he kept saying that it was a huge investment and that we had to wait for the pool. The construction will be finished soon, and I can’t wait to have a pool party at home. It’s gonna be fucking awesome! In fact, I should start planning.


	39. Chapter 39

It was a warm evening in early May as Chester returned home from ballet practice. The rehearsals for their performance before the summer holidays were in full swing, and all Chester was focused on was ballet and his theater group. Even though the finals were coming close, he didn’t study nearly as much as his parents would have liked. All of his recent tests had been pretty okay, and most discussions at home revolved around the old ‘why would I study for good grades if average grades are good enough to pass’. In Chester’s opinion, the summer holidays couldn’t come soon enough. Then, he’d have a well-deserved break from all the studying and catching up on math he’d done all schoolyear.

There was something he had successfully been able to hide from his parents for a few weeks now, and he couldn’t explain to himself how they hadn’t noticed by now. _It’s good they haven’t noticed. I don’t know what would happen if they did,_ he thought as he parked his bicycle in the garage next to Mike’s, went around the house and opened the door. _Mike and Dave both say I should quit, though. I don’t know what their problem is…it’s not like I wouldn’t know it’s unhealthy. I haven’t even been doing it for long, and I if I want to, I can easily quit_.

He opened the door and stepped inside, immediately being greeted by a very excited dog. _I wonder what’s for dinner today._

“I’m home!” he shouted as he took his shoes off and placed them into the corner.

“Hello, pumpkin!” Donna replied, coming into the hallway. “Your teacher from the theater group at school called. She said there’d be another rehearsal this Saturday at 2.30.”

“Oh, cool. I’ll be there.” he replied, smiling. Usually, every sentence that started with ‘Your teacher called’ meant trouble, but not this time.

Mike was already home and had been painting in his room, working on the art project for school that he needed to hand in next week. He came down the stairs to eat dinner and play videogames with Chester afterwards. They had had two free periods at school today because their English teacher was sick, so that they had managed to do all the homework already, and now Mike and Chester were looking forward to spending the time between finishing dinner and going to bed with playing that new videogame Mike had been able to afford with his allowance. In a few minutes, their father would come home from work and they could eat.

Just when Donna was about to return to the dining room to set the table, Chester took off his light jacket, and something fell out of his pocket. Something that he had been trying to hide for the past three weeks. Everything happened really quickly, and in a matter of seconds, the small red and white package fell onto the floor, Jason the dog sniffed it and turned away at the smell, barking in disgust, and Mike sucked in a silent breath while Chester hastily grabbed the package and stuffed it back into his pocket, praying that his mother hadn’t seen it.

But she had. She’d caught a glimpse of it from the corner of her eye, and she immediately turned back around to confront her son.

“Was that what I thought it was, Chester?!” she asked, her voice a little more high-pitched than usually.

“I don’t know what you thought it was.” Chester replied without missing a beat while Mike was covering his face in his hand. This was going to be a long conversation.

“Don’t sass me. What’s in your pocket?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t you lie to me.”

Chester knew there was no point in lying. She had seen the little package and he had to show it to her. _Fuck, she’ll tell dad. He’ll be here any minute now…_

Instead of saying anything, he exchanged a quick look with Mike, who was wordlessly shrugging his shoulders at him. He didn’t know what to do, either. Glancing down to the floor, Chester studied the pattern on his black and neon green socks with great interest, hoping to avoid the upcoming lecture.

“Just don’t be angry, okay?” he mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt.

“Show me.” Donna said, holding out her right hand for Chester give her the package that she knew was in his jacket pocket.

Sighing, he reluctantly reached inside and dug out the pack of cigarettes he’d bought from an older student for a few bucks. He placed it into Donna’s hand while he chewed on the inside of his cheek. _Great. I should have known that almost nothing stays a secret in this house. I hope she won’t be too angry._

“Since when do you smoke, Chester?” Donna hissed angrily, trying to stay calm. There was no need to make a huge drama out of this, but she was angry anyway.

“I, I…um…it hasn’t been for long…come on, it’s not a big deal, mom.”

When Donna didn’t get a straight answer out of Chester, she turned to Mike, who had tried to stay out of the conversation.

“Did you know about this?”

“Uh, who? Me?” he asked, anxiously rubbing the side of his neck with one hand when he suddenly became the center of attention. “Yeah, I’ve known about it. Sorry.”

Donna wanted to wait for Muto to come home and have a little talk with their sons about this, so she just sighed and told them to help her set the table for dinner and sit their butts down.

“We’ll talk about this when your father comes home.” she announced, angrily putting the cigarettes into the back pocket of her jeans to retrieve them when her husband showed up.

About ten minutes later, Muto came home from work, leaving his shoes at the door before he washed his hands and went to the dinner table to say hello to his sons, who looked as if they were in trouble again. He’d been in a good mood, but got confused when he walked into the tense atmosphere in the dining room.

“Hey honey.” he greeted his wife, kissing her on the cheek. “Is something wrong? You seem upset.”

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong. I found this” she placed the pack of cigarettes in the middle of the table, “when it fell out of Chester’s jacket.”

The big slice of vegetable lasagna on his plate and the salad with tiny peanut pieces suddenly didn’t seem so interesting to Chester anymore. He took a huge gulp of water, hoping that, if he’d be honest, his parents wouldn’t make a scene because of a few cigarettes. He could clearly see the glare his father sent him when he saw the cigarettes and that he had been secretly smoking.

“Are you kidding me? You can’t smoke!” Muto started, hoping this wouldn’t become one of those conversations that ended in yelling and door-slamming. _We can talk about it calmly. We’ll have an adult conversation and everything will be fine._

“I, um…I’m sorry.”

“Smoking is unhealthy.” he stated the obvious.

“I know, dad.”

Muto took a closer look at the package and opened it, immediately seeing that several cigarettes were already missing. “For how long have you been doing this?”

“I, uh…”

“Answer me.” Muto demanded calmly.

“Three weeks or so. I swear, it hasn’t been for long!” Chester said before taking a fork-full of lasagna and then just stared at it angrily instead of eating.

“This is not okay, you hear me?”

“I know…”

“Where did you even get them? Do I have to remind you again that you are _not_ 18 yet?!”

Chester sighed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

“Well? Where did you get them?”

“Some guy…”

“What guy?”

“Does it matter?”

“Just tell me.”

“Ugh, fine…His name is Sean. He sells them at school. He, um, he’s one year older than me.”

Muto and Donna looked at each other, furious that it was so easy for minors to buy cigarettes these days.

“Do you smoke, too, Michael?” Muto asked in a tense voice. There was more than one reason why Mike shouldn’t smoke.

“No, dad.” he replied honestly, shaking his head. “I, um…to be honest…I tried it once but I didn’t like it.”

_There’s nothing like Mike Shinoda taking a drag from his first cigarette, coughing his lungs out, and then looking the guy who sold them to us dead in the eye and telling him ‘sorry, I prefer weed’_ , Chester thought. He almost burst out laughing at the memory, but he managed to keep a straight face and focus on the fork in his hand.

“You don’t even care one bit about your asthma, do you, Michael?”

“What?! I do!” Mike defended himself. “it’s not even an issue most of the times. And I just told you that I said I didn’t like it!”

“It’s true!” Chester agreed to protect his brother from their parents’ accusations.

_Man, this is so fucking ridiculous. He has mild asthma. Mild! It’s never really an issue anyway. He needs his inhaler like five times a year or so…and still, mom and dad act as if it would be the end of the world if he smoked one single fucking cigarette. Jesus fucking Christ, we know it’s unhealthy, but so what?_

Chester remembered the lecture Mike had received that morning after the fateful party at Brad’s house. Not the one at the breakfast table about coming home high, but the one when Anna and Dave had gone home. His parents had made a total scene about Mike’s barely noticeable asthma and how he should have been more responsible and taken his health more seriously. In Chester’s opinion, they had completely over-reacted.

“And why did _you_ think it was a good idea to even accept that cigarette when it was offered to you? Why didn’t you just say no?” Donna asked, now addressing Chester and stabbing her salad.

“I don’t know…I guess I thought smoking with the others was cool.”

“Well, it’s not.”

_Of course they’d say that_ , he thought. _Mom and dad don’t smoke, and they only drink alcohol on special occasions. They live so fucking healthy, it freaks me out sometimes._

“But everyone does it, and – “

“Just because everyone does something, it doesn’t mean _you_ should, too.”

Chester stayed quiet while he balled his left hand into a fist around the fork he was holding. They had had such a conversation a few times already, and he knew he should try and keep his temper under control.

“Is this the only pack you have?” Muto asked.

“Y-yes.” he replied, knowing that his parents could almost always tell when he was lying.

Muto raised an eyebrow, chewing on the lasagna. He was angry now, and he knew that Donna was, too.

“Okayyy, I’ve got another one in my room.” Chester admitted, rolling his eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, it is, young man! I will not allow this. It’s unhealthy and you know it. After dinner you’ll give me the cigarettes you have in your room and I’ll throw them away, is that clear?”

“Come on, you can’t do that! I bought them with my own money!”

“Half of your ‘own money’ is the allowance I give you every month, and you can expect not to receive any of that next month.” Muto decided in this very moment, well aware of what would come now.

“That’s so unfair! You can’t do that!” Chester complained, raising his voice.

“Smoking behind our backs and keeping secrets isn’t fair, either. Knowingly and permanently damaging your lungs is not healthy at all. Now that’s what you can’t do.”

It was on the tip of Chester’s tongue to say something back, to give a sassy reply that wouldn’t help the situation in any way, but he bit his tongue and exhaled through his nose like an angry dragon. He stayed quiet, silently fuming and eating the remains of his dinner. The conversation shifted to how work and school had been that day, and Mike and Chester were glad to not be interrogated anymore.

“How did you even manage to hide it for three weeks?” Donna asked before she drank the rest of her sparkling water. She didn’t want to let the topic go yet; there were so many unanswered questions.

“I smoked only a few every day, and never right before I came home, and, uhh…I had a lot of chewing gum.” he said, blushing a little.

“Just don’t do it again, okay?”

“Fine…” he grumbled, still pissed.

“No, I mean it. Don’t do it again.” she said in a stricter tone than she would usually use.

“Okay, mom…”

Donna knew there was no way to talk about this anymore tonight, so she just let it go. It wasn’t like _she_ hadn’t tried a cigarette and other things here and there at his age…

“Listen, pumpkin.” she began, trying to let her voice sound gentler now.

Chester groaned at his childhood nickname, but didn’t say anything about it. He knew his mother would always call him and Mike ‘pumpkin’, no matter how old they were.

“Yeah?”

“I’ll tell you the same I told you both when you got drunk, and when _you_ ” she turned to Mike now, “smoked marijuana. Which doesn’t go well with asthma, either, Michael. We talked about this.”

Mike and Chester exchanged a nervous glance. They were more than happy that their parents had never found out about that other time…

“It is absolutely okay to be curious about these things. I know you’re almost 18 and you think you’re adults now, but as long as you live in this house, you’ll stick to the rules, clear?” she went on.

“Clear…” they mumbled, impatient to get this over with.

“Good. Now help me with the dishes, Michael.”

“Sooo, I guess we won’t be playing videogames tonight?” Mike asked before he got up and collected the dirty plates and cutlery. He already knew the answer, and he was disappointed that the one thing he’d been looking forward to all day was most likely cancelled now.

“Yes. No videogames tonight.” Muto decided. The whole discussion had turned out to be easier than he had thought, but he was still a little angry.

“Not even for an hour?” Chester tried his luck, knowing that the answer would be no.

“No. It’s a nice warm evening. Go outside or something. That’s better for you than videogames, anyway.”

“But we have nothing to do! We already did all the homework and – “

“I said no.”

“Come on, just because of a little smoking? That’s ridiculous!”

“Do you know what’s ridiculous? You thinking that smoking because of peer pressure was a good idea.” Muto replied in a stern but calm voice.

Instead of saying all the things he wanted to say about this, Chester once again managed to bite his tongue and keep the anger in. It was something he had learned in therapy, and sometimes it worked. He had his arms crossed over his chest, trying to keep his mouth shut as he angrily pressed his toes into the rug under the table. In the end, Mike had to help clean the table and load the dishwasher while Chester and Muto went upstairs so that Chester could give him his hidden cigarettes.

“This is your fault.” Mike whispered to his brother as he brought two used plates into the kitchen.

Later, upstairs in his room, Chester rummaged through a drawer at his desk and retrieved the second pack of cigarettes he had been hiding.

“So, um, here they are.” Chester said as he unwillingly handed them over.

“Thank you.”

“You know, you don’t have to take away my allowance next month just because I smoked a few cigarettes.” Chester started to argue as he leaned back against his desk and stuffed his hands into the front pocket of his pants.

“Usually, I don’t care what you and Michael do with your money. You can spend it on whatever you like, as long as it is not totally unreasonable - ”

“I know, I know…”

“ – And spending it on cigarettes is not what I want you to do with your money. It is not what I had in mind when I told you to spend it on whatever you need. It’s unhealthy and too expensive, and you’re not old enough to smoke, anyway.”

“Yes, but – “

“No. Also, smoking because other people make it seem cool is a stupid thing to do. And most of all, I want you to stop being dishonest.”

Glancing down to the wooden floor, Chester sighed and bit his lips. He was disappointed about not going to receive his allowance next month, and about not being permitted to play videogames with Mike tonight. However, he was glad that, unlike many other conversations, this one hadn’t ended in a fight.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m really sorry. You don’t have to be so angry.” Chester said, his voice defensive and frustrated.

“It’s not that I’m angry, Chester. I am, but the point is that I want you to understand that there are rules to follow, and secretly smoking definitely goes against those rules.” Muto explained in a calm voice that surprised even himself.

“Oh, jeez, I know.” he replied, trying hard not to roll his eyes.

“Good. Don’t smoke again, okay? If someone offers you a cigarette or anything else, just say no. Your mother and I don’t want you to smoke, understood?”

“Yeah, understood…”

Muto looked at the pack of cigarettes in his right hand and then at his son standing at the desk, obviously waiting to be left alone so he could sulk about the change of plans this evening and about the loss of money in the upcoming month.

“Oh, come here, it’s okay now.” he said as he pulled Chester into a hug he reluctantly accepted.

xxxxx

A few minutes later, Chester and Mike sat at the edge of the pool, their legs dangling into the water. Muto and Donna were inside, planning the route and the activities for their vacation in Japan this summer, when they planned on visiting several cities. They had already booked the flight and the hotels for their 14-days-trip at the beginning of the boys’ summer holidays. Donna looked outside into the garden, where her sons were obviously arguing and bantering like so many times before.

_Just don’t worry, they’ll make up later_ , she thought to herself as she petted Jason the dog behind his fluffy ears. _I’m glad that Anna’s parents have agreed to take care of Jason while we’re on vacation._

At the pool, Chester was venting his anger about what had happened earlier, but Mike wasn’t having it. It had been his brother’s fault and he was going to tell him so.

“I’ve been looking forward to videogame night all day! Dammit, Chaz!” Mike complained.

“Oh, and you think _I_ haven’t been looking forward to it, you dork?”

“What did you call me?”

“You fucking heard me, Mike.” he said, kicking one leg down against the surface of the cool water, splashing Mike in the process.

“It’s your own fucking fault! I told you to quit two weeks ago! And Dave did, too!” he replied, intentionally bumping his foot against Chester’s underwater, until they were fighting and kicking each other, splashing water everywhere.

“You think I don’t know that?” Chester replied, giving his brother an icy glare in return.

“But look at the bright side, Dave will be happy when you tell him that you won’t smoke anymore now.”

“True.” Chester grumbled, thinking back to the short disagreement he’d had with his boyfriend earlier before ballet practice.

Their relationship was going as well as ever, despite of a few minor arguments here and there. The fact that Chester had been smoking for a few weeks now had been the main topic they had argued about, as well as Dave’s trouble at home with his dad and Chester’s advice that was not always welcome.

_But Dave has gotten a job in a video rental store in his neighborhood, so that he can escape from all the drama at home and even earn some money. I’m so proud of him. We’ve become closer, too, even though we’ve been arguing a little lately. I’ve let him go further when we were in bed, and I really enjoyed it. I don’t know when I’ll be ready to bottom, though… I want to, but I’m scared. We’ve talked about it, and it’s not like he’s pressuring me or something, but I feel his impatience._

The brothers continued to argue about whose fault it had been that neither of them was allowed to spend the evening the way they had planned to.

From inside the house, Muto looked up from the street map of Tokio he had been focused on. He looked through the window, seeing Mike and Chester bicker at the side of the pool, splashing each other with water and wrestling a little. _It’s not going to take long and then they’ll both be in there,_ he thought. He knew that sooner or later, one of them would push the other into the water, but he didn’t worry about it too much. He’d seen them fight more than enough times to know that they’d make up again and be best buddies as soon as the argument was resolved. Just five minutes later, he heard a loud splash, and again, he looked up from the map where he had been marking certain streets and places he wanted to show the boys. Donna was sitting at the table next to him, making a list of what every one of them had to pack for the trip.

“Do you want me to go break it up?” Muto asked half-seriously and half-jokingly as he and Donna looked out of the window where Mike had pushed Chester into the pool and was now about to be pulled inside himself.

“No. Let them figure this out on their own.” she replied, smiling at her husband and shaking her head at the teenage boys outside who were currently behaving like little children fighting over a toy.

Outside in the backyard, the sun was almost setting. Chester had just landed face first in the swimming pool. He was still wearing his black shorts, because he hadn’t really planned on swimming this evening. He had ditched his t-shirt when he had entered the garden, unlike Mike who was still wearing both his shorts and his t-shirt. As soon as Chester got to the surface and spit out some of the chloride water, he swam to Mike who was sitting on the edge of the pool and laughing at him. In a split second, Chester had grabbed him by the wrists and pulled him inside.

Now the fight was on. They wrestled in the swimming pool, pushing each other underwater and holding the other down until he managed to get the upper hand again. Quickly, it wasn’t about the cigarette incident anymore. Now it was one of their fights about who of them was stronger, but while both of them knew it was just fun, there was a tiny bit of seriousness as each of them struggled to stay above the water. Minutes later, they were tired and exhausted, but their little dispute was definitely solved, even if there was no clear winner this time.

While Chester was getting ready for bed, he thought back to the awesome garden party he and Mike had hosted on the weekend after the construction in their backyard had been finished and the new pool was ready for use.

The pool party had been wild. They had spent all day decorating the backyard and preparing food. Although it was only spring, it had been a really hot day. They had hung up colorful lampions between the trees and bushes and placed candles on the table they had carried out into the garden. By around 4 PM all of their friends had arrived and Muto had started the grill. Donna and Chester had prepared salads, garlic bread and dips while Mike had set up his stereo in the living room and selected his and Chester’s favorite CDs to play in the background, or, more precisely, to annoy the neighbors.

At the end of the evening, everyone was stuffed from the barbecue and hyped up from the games they had played. There had even been a pool wrestling competition not unlike the one Mike and Chester just had earlier. After several rounds, Rob got declared as winner, and he earned himself the last popsicle they had in the freezer. They had played guitar and sang together around the table, it had been a perfect day. If Chester was honest to himself, it had been more like a kid’s birthday party than the cool adult gathering he and Mike had had in mind, but they had a lot of fun, and that was the only thing that mattered.

that night, long after Muto and Donna had gone to bed, Mike, Chester, Dave and Anna were still up. The other guests had gone home, but Dave and Anna stayed the night. Surrounded by the lampions, Mike and Anna were kissing in the swimming pool, whilst Chester and Dave were upstairs in the bathroom, showering together for the very first time.

xxxxx

On Saturday during the drama club rehearsal, Chester had given his best, just like he had done every time they had rehearsed for the play at the end of the school year that was just four weeks away. He had fun on stage, whether it was singing, dancing or acting, it made him feel free. They rehearsed on the stage in the assembly hall, where the play would take place, and whilst the hall was always empty during the rehearsals, today he had noticed a man sitting in the back, taking notes. When they were done for today and everyone was leaving to enjoy the rest of their weekend, the two teachers who taught the drama class called for him.

“Chester!” Mrs. Carter called.

“Yes?” he asked as he walked over to them. He had been wanting to go home, but something was up, he could feel it.

“There’s someone we wanted you to meet.” Mr. Simmons replied, standing next to Mrs. Carter and the man Chester had spotted in the back of the assembly hall.

He was a tall man in his late forties with brown-greyish hair. He wore a dark blue dress shirt and pants in the same color, as well as a brown belt with brown shoes – Chester always paid attention to those details – and he looked like a person in charge, at least to Chester.

“This is Professor Montgomery. He teaches dramatic arts and vocal studies at the Los Angeles College of Performing Arts.”

Chester’s eyes went wide as he heard that. He tried to appear as polite and professional as he could while the man introduced himself and told him that he was friends with his teacher Mr. Simmons, who had told him that there was a student in his class who had a lot of talent. Mr. Simmons had asked him if he wanted to take a look, since he also managed the talent scout department of the college.

“…and I have to say that I am impressed.” Professor Montgomery finished his sentence. He had just told Chester that he had noticed what a great voice Chester had, and that the singing part of the play was very good. Also that his acting was quite decent, something that was rarely seen in high school plays.

“Um, thank you, sir.” Chester replied, too nervous to say anything else as he fidgeted with his hands.

“Tell me, have you been taking lessons?”

“In singing? No, that’s just something I do for fun.”

“Hm, impressive.” the older man said and wrote something down in his little notebook.

“Thanks.” Chester said again, blushing a bit.

“So, your teachers told me that there’s one schoolyear ahead of you before you graduate, and in case you’re not sure yet about what to do then, would you consider auditioning for drama school?”

“Oh my god, yes! Yes! That would be so cool!” He felt as if his heart were about to jump out of his chest, and he gladly accepted the card Professor Montgomery handed him.

“There will be a career day in about two months, and if you’re still interested by then, I would suggest you drop by. Just come with your parents and take some flyers home. Oh, and we also offer summer programs for high-schoolers.” he informed Chester before telling him the exact time, day and address of the career day, which Chester quickly wrote down on the back of the card he had received, borrowing a pen from Mrs. Carter.

“I’ll be there!” he promised.

Just when Professor Montgomery was about to leave, Chester thought of something that might be important.

“I do ballet, too!”

_I knew it! I thought there was something in his posture and the way he moved on stage that was completely different from the other students_ , the professor thought.

“Oh, since when?” he asked with genuine interest in his voice as he turned around.

“Only for like two years or so, but I’ve been told that I’m pretty good at it.” Chester said shily, not wanting to brag.

When the conversation was over and they had talked about Chester doing ballet and singing in his free time, the professor had written down some more information in his notebook, and Chester was on his way home, grinning from ear to ear as he sat on his usual spot in the bus.

xxxxx

“Mom! Dad!” Chester almost yelled when he came home. “I got news!”

“Chester, pumpkin, slow down! Take a breath.” Donna said, but her son wasn’t about to slow down at all.

All troubles and shame about the cigarette incident this week were forgotten as Chester told his parents about the conversation he had just had. Muto mentioned some concerns about a musical star not being a real job, but right now, only one thing mattered to Chester, and that was that finally, someone appreciated his talent. Finally, he might have a chance to prove himself. He had always enjoyed those times when his parents took him and Mike to the theater or even the opera once or twice, even when they had been younger, and then of course the musical he had seen this year with his drama club from school.

He made a mental note to tell Mike about it, too, when he came home tomorrow from Anna’s parents’ house. He’d also talk about it in therapy on Monday, because his therapist had told him that it would be important for him to have things to look forward to; positive thoughts to focus on when the bad thoughts came and tried to overwhelm him. While they were having dinner, Chester was totally hyped up, not letting his parents’ concerns get to him.

It was after 9 pm when he got off the phone with Dave. He had told him everything he had told his parents earlier, and he felt happier and more content with his life than he had in months. In these past days since the cigarette incident, he’d been craving a smoke at least once a day, but now he had something new to focus on. Maybe his parents would even let him go to the summer program at college?

_Now there’s only the last few exams, the school play, and the ballet performance, and then we’ll fly to Japan for two weeks. Damn, I can’t fucking wait!_ , he thought as he went to bed that night.


	40. Chapter 40

Sitting next to Mike on the plane, I squeeze my anti-stress ball and take a deep breath. I hate flying, it makes me nervous even though we fly a few times a year when we visit our grandparents in Oregon.

A lot has happened in the previous five weeks. I did pretty well at the finals this year, even in math. Of course I was a little jealous that Mike got his annual A’s and B’s almost effortlessly while I struggled to get a C in some classes, but on the other side I, too, had a couple of classes that I got an A in. Fine, it was only English and my drama group, but mom and dad were proud, anyway. Most of all, they were proud of me passing math with a better grade than last school year, and dad’s speech about hard work paying off did lift my mood after comparing my grades to Mike’s.

The weekend after the finals, our school play took place, and it was so much fun! Fortunately, everything went as it was planned, and I was happy with my performance. It was indeed a little weird to kiss the girl who played Juliet, but we had done it a dozen times during the rehearsals, so we were both not that awkward about it anymore. I think we both did pretty well at that part. All my family and friends came to see the play, which made me really fucking proud, but also so damn nervous. Dave wasn’t jealous at all of me kissing the girl because he knows I only have eyes for him.

Singing and acting in front of your family is just so different than doing it in front of strangers or an empty room during rehearsals. The weirdest thing is that I’m embarrassed of being caught singing at home, but when I’m on a stage, I kinda like the audience.

Then finally, it was the day of the performance of the ballet group Dave and I go to. Last year I hadn’t told anyone about it, but this year, mom, dad and Mike came. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted them to come, but Mike found the piece of paper with the rehearsal dates and the performance date on it when he was looking for a CD he had lent to me, so I had no choice but to get tickets for everyone. Mike also brought Anna, and even Dave’s mom Betty was there. He told me that he’s concerned about his parents getting a divorce, and that, while his relationship with his mom is pretty good right now, things with his dad still aren’t that great.

But anyway, our whole ballet group gave one hell of a performance, but, if I’m being honest to myself, the most important thing for me was when it was over and my family was waiting for me outside and dad told me he was proud of me. By now, he has completely accepted that I do ballet, and I know that he really means what he says.

A few days ago, mom and dad took us out for pizza and we celebrated a few things, for example Mike winning the art project competition at our school, and me doing really well this school year in almost every subject. Oh, also we celebrated that mom has been promoted at work; she’s been at her company for years and is now the chief secretary of not only the department she was in before, but of the whole entire fucking company. This means a huge pay raise and other benefits. The month after we come home from our vacation, she’ll work full-time instead of part-time, so that both of our parents will only come home in the evening. The next day, our whole gang went to that awesome pancake place near the park while dad went to the bank to change the amount of money he estimated we’ll need for the trip from Dollars to Yen, and the day after that, Mike and I already packed our suitcases.

On exactly this day last year, Mike and I spent half the night in a holding cell at the police station, and today, we’re on a 12-hour-flight to Tokyo. It is relatively quiet on the plane because most people are trying to sleep. Mom and dad have already dozed off; dad with his book on his lap and mom with her head on dad’s shoulder. Mike and I are still awake, just like a few other passengers. We took our old Gameboys with us to not be too bored during the flight, and Mike has been playing Tetris for the last hour, while I was occupied with overthinking. I should sleep, not think. I don’t wanna have jetlag tomorrow. Okay, I’ll most likely will have jetlag, anyway…

Lately, Dave has been a little pushy about me trying to bottom, but I don’t know how I feel about that. My therapist said I should wait until I feel ready, and that I shouldn’t rush anything, but Dave has been (subconsciously?) complaining that it takes me too long to be ready to take that step. He’s pushing and pushing and pushing…and…I don’t want to. I mean, sure, I wanna be able to bottom someday, but that day isn’t here yet. I just don’t see it happening anytime soon. We talk about it a lot and he claims he can wait, but I can clearly feel that he’s getting fucking impatient with me. And I totally get him. I can understand that he wants to be on top, too. That he wants to take control sometimes. But we’re already doing that, kind of. We’re switching it up when we make out, and I’ve let him touch me in a way I would have never thought I’d want anyone to touch me, but then when we sleep together, it’s always me being on top.

I think he might not even be aware that he’s pushing so hard, but lately he’s been asking all those questions about ‘don’t you trust me?’, and ‘I don’t wanna pressure you but don’t you feel ready by now?’. Ugh! Yes, I fucking _do_ trust him. No, I’m fucking _not_ ready! Maybe I’ll be ready in a few months. Maybe next year. I’m not sure…I guess when I get home in two weeks, I’ll have to talk to him about this. My therapist always says that communication and being open about my emotions is the most important thing.

Dave and I get along so well, and I just love having him as my official boyfriend, and this damn problem of me not being ready to bottom is really the only issue between us. But we’ll figure it out. So far, we’ve gotten over every little disagreement. Oh, I definitely have to remember bringing Dave a souvenir from Japan. I promised to get him something weird and funny, and from what dad has been telling us about his parents’ home country, it won’t be hard to find something.

“Chaz?” Mike asks, his voice snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah?” “Everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah, why do you ask?”

“You look like you’re spacing out. Are you alright?”

“Sure. I was just thinking.”

We decide on trying to get some rest on this long ass flight, and after some quiet breathing exercises, I actually feel myself slowly falling asleep.

xxxxx

Man, Japan was freaking awesome! We’ve been here for almost two weeks, and soon it will be time for our flight back home. At first, I felt like the jet lag would kill me, but after about two days, I started feeling okay again. During our vacation, dad has turned into the perfect travel guide; I think he was so proud to show us his country. We’ve taken tons of photos and visited all the important places. We’ve been to Tokyo, Kyoto, Nagaya and Osaka, and we saw popular sightseeing spots as well as nature and traditional places that weren’t tourist-oriented. Also, we visited Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples, and took part in a sushi making class and a tea ceremony.

We visited three museums, a few traditional markets and even saw a sumo fight. Sure, we were on a tight time-schedule, but I guess that was because dad wanted to show us as much as possible. He was a little sad that we were late for Hanami, the annual celebration of the cherry blossoms in spring, and he wouldn’t let it count when Mike noted that the cherry blossom tree in our backyard looked beautiful, as well. He said that it is a totally different experience to see the alleys of trees that blossomed in light pink for only a few weeks, and that if we ever get the chance, we should go see it.

People don’t really speak English here, not even in tourist areas, but I didn’t mind. It was fun to use all the weird vending machines without knowing what I would get. Talking about the vending machines…there are some really freaky ones, but I only ended up buying a pair of crazy socks for myself and Dave. There are vending machines for the weirdest things, especially in Tokyo. We saw some for hot and cold beverages, for rice wine, instant noodles, ice cream, fish soup, flowers, umbrellas, socks with sushi printed on them and many more. Mike and I wanted to find the ones that sell schoolgirl’s panties, but apparently those are just a myth. We did see a vending machine that sold new, fresh underwear for whatever emergency, though. Japan is so fucking crazy, I love it.

Oh, we also went to a few shopping malls around here, just to see how different they are compared to American malls, and, unsurprisingly, we had sort of a culture shock. Everything is so different here. Crazier. Weirder. More colorful. It was amazing.

In short: We did _everything_. Literally everything there is to do and see as a tourist in the bigger cities of Japan. All in two weeks. Our days have been so full of activities that I slept like a baby every single night. It was not at all a relaxing vacation, but we came here to see stuff, not to relax, like dad said during one of his many history lessons during this trip.

The absolute best was the food, though, and the way everything is so different than in L.A.. There was a restaurant in Tokyo that had a really good sauce, and we ended up buying some of it for home. I tried almost everything, but there were some weird things that I didn’t want to eat, unlike Mike, who has no qualms about putting something in his mouth. He eats everything, seriously. Okay, I do remember that French restaurant we went to at home where he said he’d never eat frogs and snails, but I’m sure that if they were covered in Teriyaki sauce, he’d even try those.

Now is our last evening before we fly home, and we’re sitting in the hotel restaurant, waiting for our food. This morning, we took the train from Osaka back to Tokyo, so we can get to the airport early in the morning. It’s been one hell of a vacation, and actually, I don’t even want to leave yet. Oh, the food is here! I feel like I’ve had happy sushi brain for two weeks straight, and we haven’t even had sushi that often, because Japanese cuisine, as dad always tells us, is so much more. Of course we knew that, since we eat Japanese food at home very often, but here we’ve eaten some traditional dishes that we’ve never had at home. We’ve had lots of sea food, chicken and pork. We’ve had vegetables I’ve never seen in the US, and we’ve had rice almost every day; sometimes cooked, sometimes fried. Even rice for breakfast. Most of the food was ridiculously spicy, but I loved it, anyway.

“Itadakimasu” we say before we start eating.

It’s something that everyone in Japan does, according to dad. We don’t do this at home, but I guess he wants to honor the traditions here. He said it means something like ‘I humbly receive’. We put both hands together in front of our chests while we say it, which kind of reminds me a little of saying a prayer before eating at Rob’s, Brad’s or Dave’s parents’ house. There are lots of other rules and traditions related to eating here, and we’ve been taking part in all of them.

While we’re eating the miso soup that comes before the main dish, I think back to the first day after we landed here. We were going out to explore the city, and I was still feeling weird from the long flight, even though I had slept well that first night in the hotel room I shared with Mike. That morning, it had been pretty warm, and I had left the room in jeans, sneakers and a tank top, just what I’d wear at home on a sunny day. Mike and I were just leaving the room to go downstairs for breakfast in the hotel as mom and dad walked by our room to go downstairs as well, and after they had greeted us and asked us if we had slept well, dad realized what was wrong with the outfit I had chosen.

“For god’s sakes, Chester, hide your tattoos!” he whispered to me, so I went back inside to change into a t-shirt that covered the colorful dragons on my shoulder blades.

I hadn’t thought about what he had told me about tattoos not being accepted in Japan, but when I returned, wearing something more appropriate, dad seemed way more relaxed, and we started our first day exploring Tokyo.

During dinner, we talk about our vacation that will soon come to an end. I can’t even decide what I liked the most, my mind is still too overwhelmed by all the impressions I got here. On the one hand, I don’t wanna leave Japan yet, and on the other, I really want to get home and tell Dave everything. I have so much to talk about with him. He’s been visiting relatives in Ireland for the past week with his parents. I really hope they didn’t fight too much during that time. The rest of our group of friends have been on vacation as well, or will go soon. Anna and her parents have been taking care of Jason while we were here, and will go on vacation in two weeks, as well.

The summer is far from over yet. Mom and dad agreed on going to that open house day in the College of Performing Arts with me in three weeks, and I couldn’t be more excited for that. I hope they’ll let me attend the summer program for high school kids. Dad said that he wanted to see the college and go to the open house day before he makes a decision. The program is free, but they only allow 30 students each year, so I’m extremely nervous about being able to attend this year.

There’ll be an open day at the art school Mike wants to attend after we graduate high school, as well, and he’s planning on going there with mom and dad in two weeks. We’ll both apply for several colleges, but both of us already have a favorite one we’d like to get in. Although we still have one school year to go until we graduate, we know exactly what we want afterwards. It was always clear to Mike that he’d go to art school, and it’s been clear to me for a while that I want to do something that has to do with singing, dancing and acting. I don’t think mom and dad are convinced that this is a good idea, but they said they’re happy about Mike and me having such clear goals for the time after high school.

xxxxx

While they ate and talked about the vacation and the next few weeks of the summer holidays, Muto, for some reason, had to think back to the performance of the ballet group Chester attended. It had been the first time he had seen his son actually dance, and had been surprised by how good he was. He had glanced over to Donna a few times, who had actually teared up a little at one point of the performance. She had become good friends with Betty, David’s mother, who had been there to watch her son do ballet for the first time, as well. The whole evening had gone really well, and both Chester and David had been beaming with pride afterwards. At first it had been weird to see his son in those tight ballet clothes, and seeing him dance so gracefully while he was usually very accident-prone, but he had quickly realized how much fun Chester seemed to have.

_He looked so happy on stage, as if he belonged there_ , Muto thought before he remembered that they couldn’t spend all night in the restaurant, but that he actually had something to do after they were finished eating.

Tonight after dinner, there was one more activity that Muto had planned for this vacation. It was going to be a surprise for Donna only, and he’d been secretly looking forward to it all this time. Their time in Japan had been exciting, a little stressful, and most of all expensive. They had seen four cities and learned a lot about the culture, which was most important to Muto, especially for his two sons. The four of them had done everything together in the past two weeks, but he wanted their last evening in Tokyo to be just for himself and his wife. He knew that in the district of Odaiba, which was located on a small island in Tokyo bay, there was supposed to be a beautiful night view of the skyline of Tokyo, the so-called rainbow bridge and all over the bay. They would take a nice, romantic boat cruise in the bay and look at the colorfully illuminated city skyline.

Donna was enjoying the traditional food of her husband’s country, suspecting nothing about his plans for tonight. Over the last two weeks, she had written down recipes she wanted to try at home, and while she dipped the vegetables on her plate into some of the wasabi that came in a smaller, extra bowl, she had to think back to an incident that had occurred almost eight years ago, when Michael had been nine years old. It had been neither the first nor the last incident of that kind.

xxxxx

_Unlike many other children, Michael had never been a picky eater, and the only food he truly hated were broccoli and cauliflower. This fact hadn’t stopped her from cooking these vegetables, because she and Muto loved them and they wanted to teach their son to eat whatever she cooked without complaining. Years later when Chester had entered their family, they had abandoned that rule because the kids were older now, but that day at dinner, Michael had fake-gagged and thrown a total fit about how disgusting cauliflower was._

_“I have_ had _it with you, Michael.”_

_“You know I hate cauliflower, mom!” he complained, pushing the almost empty plate away from him._

_The pork and the fried rice were long gone, but like always, he was making a scene about not wanting to eat cauliflower. Sometimes, his parents let it go just because they didn’t want to argue, but today he wasn’t that lucky._

_“Just try it. There’s some curry sauce left on your plate. I promise, cauliflower with curry tastes good.” Donna tried coaxing her son into eating the vegetable he despised._

_Hesitantly, Michael stuck the fork into a piece of cauliflower and swirled it around in the yellow curry sauce before taking the tiniest bite._

_“No, I don’t like it!” he said again, dropping the fork on the plate and pushing it even farther away. He squirmed on his chair, obviously wanting to get up from the table._

_“Listen, you’re gonna sit here and eat this cauliflower.”_

_“No, mom, I don’t want to.” he whined._

_“You can’t get up from the table until-“_

_“But it makes me puke!”_

_“I said you can’t get up from the table until you finish that cauliflower.” she repeated in a calm, but strict voice. “And by the way, you have never had to throw up after eating. So don’t be so dramatic and get it over with, okay, pumpkin?”_

_While her son was violently shaking his head, she gently pushed the plate back onto the bamboo placemat. He looked as if he would almost throw up in the next moment and even teared up a little, but she knew that those were only fake tears so that she would allow him to get up without eating the cauliflower, and that he was just forcing himself to gag._

He’s won’t throw up, he’s just pretending _, she thought._

_“I’m not gonna do it!”_

_“We can sit here all day until that plate is clear, you hear me?”_

_Michael looked over to his father sitting at the other end of the table, hoping to get some kind of sympathy._

_“You heard her, buddy. Eat that cauliflower and you can get up from the table.” Muto said._

_“But…but last week when Brad was here and he didn’t wanna eat the spinach, you didn’t make him do it!” Michael argued, eyeing the cauliflower on his plate._

_“Because it is not my responsibility to raise him.” Donna explained patiently._

_“But cauliflower is so disgusting…”_

_“Listen, Michael.” Muto said, sighing and looking at the stubborn little man in front of him. His son had his arms crossed over his chest and was staring at the white vegetable as if he wanted to destroy it with imaginary laser beams. “You can sit here and throw a tantrum or you can be a big boy and eat the cauliflower.”_

_Ten very long minutes, a lot of fake tears and probably not so fake gagging later, all of the cauliflower on Michael’s plate was finally gone. Since he was allowed to get up from the table now, he immediately poured himself a huge glass of apple juice and chugged it down in record time in order to get rid of the taste._

xxxxx

_Nowadays Michael eats both broccoli and cauliflower without complaining, but back then it was a nightmare to convince him to eat it,_ Donna remembered as they finished eating and left the restaurant.

Later in the elevator, Muto announced his plans for the night, knowing that his wife would be overjoyed.

“Just the two of us? Oh, darling, that’s such a romantic idea! I love you, honey.”

“I love you, too.” “Uhhh…then what are we gonna do?” Mike asked as he exchanged a look with his brother.

“Well, I know that I told you in the beginning of this trip that I don’t want you to wander around here alone, but I guess it will be fine if you stay in the area around the hotel and be back in your room by 11 pm. We’ll be back around midnight.”

Mike and Chester couldn’t believe what they had just heard. They were more than happy that their father had changed his mind from ‘I’m not leaving you two on your own in a foreign country’ to ‘Go have fun and be back by 11.’. In the past two weeks, there had been many times where the boys had asked their parents to go look at other stuff alone instead of visiting the third temple that they ‘absolutely had to see’ and ‘appreciate the architecture’ of, but never once had they been allowed to walk around in Japan on their own. Mike and Chester knew that was because their parents feared they’d wander off and get lost, even though they promised over and over again that they could be trusted to not get lost in the crowd.

_It’s not like we were unable to look at something else and then meet at another point later_ , Chester thought.

“Really?” Mike asked.

“Yes, under the condition that you both promise to not get too far away from the hotel and won’t find your way back here, okay?”

“Yes, yes, we promise.” Chester immediately assured his parents, almost bouncing as the elevator doors opened and they walked down the corridor to the two bedrooms they had reserved for the last night in Tokyo.

“Seriously, boys, we have to be able to trust you.” Donna reminded them. “If we leave you alone here, we have to make sure that you’ll be back at the hotel in time and that you won’t go too far away. Remember, we’ll have to be at the airport tomorrow at 8.”

“Of course you can trust us.” Mike said, looking at his parents with his big puppy eyes.

“Yeah, we’re not five. We can be responsible.” Chester added, hoping that he and Mike would actually manage to be back in the hotel and get at least a little rest before they’d have to get up early tomorrow.

“Okay, then.” Donna agreed. She was excited for the boat cruise with her husband, and just needed to get to her room and change into a light jacket before they could leave. “Have fun, you two.”

xxxxx

While their parents were spending some time on the island before starting the boat cruise to admire the colorful rainbow bridge and the night sky, Mike and Chester were exploring the district around the hotel. Since it was located in an area with many tourists, all of the shops were still open in the evening. It was past dinner time and getting dark, but there were still lots of people outside.

“Dude, I can’t wait to be old enough to go clubbing…” Chester said as they walked by a club with a big sign that said there was no entry below the age of 20.

“Yeah, me neither. Oh, look! What’s that over there?”

They had just turned around the corner, walking into a busy street they hadn’t been to before. It was a bit farther away from the hotel than they had promised their parents, but they weren’t there right now, so it didn’t matter. Apparently, there was some sort of a small, cultural street festival going on. Loud music and the smell of food were in the air, and Mike and Chester instantly knew that this was what they had been looking for.

Since the beginning of the vacation, Mike had quickly noticed that trying to read signs in Japanese and hearing people speak it in the streets was totally different than occasionally speaking it with his father at home, and he had a hard time both understanding everything and reading all the signs in the Kanji alphabet. Chester only understood some of the essential words, but together, they managed to communicate with the locals. By the time they returned to the hotel, it was 11:30 PM, but they were too hyped up to go to sleep.

They had spent the rest of the money their parents had given them for the trip, and had come back a little later than they had promised, but since their parents were still out, they would never know. When Mike and Chester entered the hotel room that looked almost like the one they shared at their grandparents’ house, they dumped the comic books, the cassettes with Japanese music that they would listen to at home to find out what exactly was on them, and all the other stuff onto the beds at either side of the room.

There was a small tv in the room, so they switched it on to have a little background noise while they packed their suitcases for the departure tomorrow morning. The weird Japanese gameshow that was on was a nice distraction as they tried to fit all the new stuff they had bought inside, but eventually, they were done and fell into bed, exhausted from the vacation that was behind them now.

xxxxx

About a week after they had returned home, the family had come back to their normal routines. Everyone had recovered from the jetlag, they had made phone calls to friends and family, and Jason the dog had been picked up from Anna’s parents’ house. All of the clothes they had brought on their trip had been washed, dried and hung back into the closets; only the massive amount of photos they had taken were yet to be developed, but that would be done soon, as well. Muto and Donna went to work, Chester went to his pizza delivery job four times a week during the holidays, and Mike had found a summer job at one of the local movie theaters, selling people their tickets. Soon, they would go to the open house days at the colleges Mike and Chester wanted to attend after they had graduated high school. Life had gotten back to normal.

The first Friday after they had returned home, Chester met with Dave at the youth center to talk about how their vacations had been, and most of all, Chester wanted to talk to his boyfriend about that issue he had already thought about on the flight to Japan. He walked into the building he had been to so many times before, glad to finally see his boyfriend again after three weeks of being separated. The youth center had become his and Dave’s safe space, and he knew they could talk about everything there. They wouldn’t argue today, they would talk and be happy to see each other.


	41. Chapter 41

Previously: The first Friday after they had returned home, Chester met with Dave at the youth center to talk about how their vacations had been, and most of all, Chester wanted to talk to his boyfriend about that issue he had already thought about on the flight to Japan. He walked into the building he had been to so many times before, glad to finally see his boyfriend again after three weeks of being separated. The youth center had become his and Dave’s safe space, and he knew they could talk about everything there. They wouldn’t argue today, they would talk and be happy to see each other.

xxxxx

When I walk in, Dave is already there, sitting on the couch in the corner and waiting for me.

“Hey, Dave!” I say before he gets up and we hug for the first time in weeks.

“Hey, Chazzy. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

Without caring if anyone could see us, we kiss. Quick, short pecks that turn into slower kisses, but we stop ourselves before they get deeper, because even though we don’t have to fear being insulted as being fags, like it has happened to us in public a few times, there’s still not enough privacy here.

We exchange gifts and souvenirs, talk about how our vacations have been and set up a date for tomorrow, hoping that Dave can spend the night at my place. I’ll have to ask mom and dad, but I’m sure they’ll allow it. Anna will come over tomorrow, too. I think I heard mom and dad talking about going to meet a couple they’re friends with in the evening, but that they’d be back at around 11 pm. This way, it will almost be like the parent free nights we used to have. I wonder when they’ll allow us those again…

Sharing the popular Irish milk chocolate Dave brought me, we just sit here and enjoy spending time together. I’m glad that the youth center isn’t too crowded today. It consists of four big rooms and a small lobby. Also, there is a small backyard, which we are heading for right now, holding hands and chatting. Before we enter the yard and take a seat on one of the benches there, each of us gets a soda from the vending machine. There are two guys outside who we have never seen here before, they must be new. The strangers are playing table-tennis with two of the people in charge here. I can hear that they give the newbies advice on coming out to their families, and even though I don’t know them, I hope that everything will go well. We greet them and sit down so we can talk in private and watch them playing.

After talking about vacations, family drama and college plans, we agree on attending the self-help group here at the youth center again, now that we’re both back from vacation. Even if we go only once or twice a month, we still want to find some time to go there. I know it helps Dave a lot to talk to the group about how his dad still doesn’t accept having a gay son, and to be honest, I sometimes share my issues, too. It helps, having people who have the same troubles in life, and talking to them about it even though I wasn’t so sure about group therapy at first. It’s a nice addition to talking to my therapist alone. I’m nervous about going to another therapist when I turn 18, because I’ve been going to Dr. Baker for years now and can imagine that building up trust to a new therapist is gonna be hard for me…

I decide to push these worries to the back of my mind for now, though, because I’m here with Dave and we’re sitting on the bench in the sunlight. We can hear birds chirping and people talking and laughing, it’s actually pretty nice. If only we had more privacy, but I guess we’ll have to wait for that. There is still something I have to talk to him about, and even though we’ve already had a few conversations about it, I’m always a little uncomfortable to bring it up. How does one even start a conversation about being afraid to bottom? I’ve been with Dave for a little over a year and a half now, I shouldn’t be afraid.

“Hey, um…I…I think we need to talk about something, Dave.” I start, nervously playing with the spikes on the bracelets he gave me for Christmas.

“Is something wrong, Chazzy?”

He’s leaning against the backrest of the bench, one hand on my legs as I have them stretched out across his lap. I’m with my back to the armrest and look over to the guys still playing table tennis. Letting out a long breath, I decide to just openly address what’s been on my mind for the past few weeks.

“There’s nothing wrong. It’s just – “

“This is about what we argued about before we went on vacation, isn’t it?” he suddenly interrupts, biting his bottom lip.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

“You know, if I’m being honest, I’m glad you said something first. I’ve been thinking about that, too, but I didn’t know what to say to you.” he admits, almost hiding behind his soda can.

“You were thinking about it, too?”

Knowing that I haven’t been the only one worrying makes me feel so relieved. I honestly had started telling myself that perhaps I had overreacted or something…

“Hmhm. It got kinda boring on the flight to Ireland, and I, I thought back to the argument we had.”

“So, can we just talk about it and not get mad at each other?” I ask while watching the way he strokes his thumb over my bare knees.

It’s a hot day today and we’re both in shorts and t-shirts, and it feels like there’s gonna be thunder and lightning later today.

_It’s not like Dave would get mad at me, no, it’s usually me who gets angry, either at myself or at him. Ugh, I’m so fucking impulsive. But not today. Today we’ll have a calm conversation. It’s been working out at home lately, so why wouldn’t it work here?_

“Of course we can talk about it, Chazzy. I, I wanted to say that I’m sorry for being so pushy. It’s just…sometimes I wonder if you don’t trust me, you know?”

“That’s not it. I do trust you! I really do, but, ugh, I don’t know how to say this…I, I guess I’m just scared.”

“I know, and I’ll try being more patient. But I promise, it’s not scary. It…it feels great.” he says, blushing.

Even though we’re outside, and not inside somewhere alone, I feel good talking about this here. The others are in a safe distance, most likely not hearing us.

“I know, babe. Well…I think I know. But…there are so many other things we can do. I think I just need time, okay? I’m not ready now, but I will be ready someday. It’s…it’s not that I don’t want to, you know?”

“Hmhm.” he mumbles, still petting my knee. “I just get so impatient sometimes. I always think that I’m doing something wrong and that’s why you don’t want to…you know…bottom.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong! It’s me who does something wrong.”

“No! No, it’s not. Let’s just agree that we’re both doing everything right, okay?”

“Okay.” I say, looking away for a few seconds before I face him again. “You know what? I have an idea what we can do.”

We keep talking about this sensitive topic for a few more minutes, dropping our voices to a lower volume until we almost whisper. Nobody has to hear what we talk about. When we part ways a while later, I feel much better about the issue that’s been between us. We’ve talked it out and made plans for tomorrow. First there’ll be a trip to the beach and later we plan on going to my parents’ house and spend the night there, since I’m a hundred percent sure they’ll let Dave stay overnight.

xxxxx

One week later, I’m getting more and more excited for the open house day at the college of Performing Arts. Yesterday, we looked at the Art School Mike would like to attend, the one in Pasadena. Mom and dad really hope that he and I will get into our dream-colleges because then, we won’t be as far from home. Mike hasn’t stopped talking about it since we came home yesterday evening, and I can’t blame him. For someone who’s into art and graphics and all of this stuff, the school is amazing, and I hope he can go there.

Now, however, he and I have our annual appointments at the eye doctor. We’re both short-sighted and need to get our eye-sight checked on a regular basis. I went first, and now it’s Mike’s turn. The doctor told me that everything was alright and that my eyesight hasn’t become either worse or better since my last visit. He has mentioned that I could get lenses if I wanted to, but I don’t think I want to yet. Just the idea of sticking something into my eyes seems really fucking unpleasant. Maybe I’ll have to get lenses when I go to college, though. I can’t go onstage wearing glasses. It’s not a big deal in a school play, but later, I might have to consider them. Ugh. I’d rather not think about this yet.

As Mike returns to the waiting room where mom and I are seated, the doctor asks to speak to mom. He suggests contact lenses for Mike, too, but in his case it’s because his eye-sight got a bit worse over the past year, and with lenses, he would see a little better than with his glasses, since the lenses are closer to the eye. The doctor advises Mike to visit an optometrist, and then we can finally go home.

“It’s those damned videogames. I told you, you sit to close to the screen, Michael.” mom says as we’re in the car and she drives back home.

“It’s not the videogames, mom.” Mike sighs, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, dad got reading glasses last year, and not because of videogames.” I defend my brother.

“Those are two totally different things, boys.”

We argue on the entire way home, and a week later, Mike wears lenses for the first time.

Anna likes them on him, and I think he likes them, too. He still has some problems with putting them in, but I guess he’ll get used to it. Even though he looks a little different without his glasses, I have to admit that it looks pretty cool. Plus, it’s fun watching him complaining about how weird it feels to put them in and then out at the end of the day.

xxxxx

A month later, I couldn’t be more excited. The open house day at the college of Performing Arts was amazing, and mom and dad agreed to let me attend the summer program for high school kids. I was lucky enough to be one of thirty people who can attend, and now dad and I are in the car on our way there. The college is located about an hour away from home, which mom and dad are glad for because they always worry, no matter how old Mike and I get.

The best part is that everyone who will attend the program will also sleep there, because the following semester will only start in fall and there are a lot of empty dorm rooms which we will sleep in. I hope my roommate will be nice. It will almost be like summer camp, fucking hell, I’m so excited! Okay, I’ll miss Dave and my family, but it’s only fourteen days, so it’ll be like a vacation. Mike and Anna will stay at our grandparents’ house for a week because they wanted to meet her. I hope they have fun, Oregon is beautiful in the summer.

Dave has just started to learn how to play bass and will be occupied with that. Plus, he has planned a short camping trip with some friends from his high school, but I think Brad and Rob are coming, too. Oh, and mom and dad were thinking about re-doing the patio in all that free time they have right now.

After the open house day at the college, mom and dad were a little concerned when they found out it’s a private college and thus will be kinda expensive. They said it might be hard to afford college for both me and Mike. Maybe I can get a scholarship that will pay part or even all of the fees. Also, dad advised us both to save most of the money we earn. He said it would be no problem to pay part of Mike’s _and_ my tuition, but paying everything might be difficult, even with his and mom’s income. Well, I guess private colleges are just fucking expensive.

However, he still isn’t that happy about my college plans. It’s always the same fucking argument. When we came home from the open house day, I was even more encouraged in my decision to go to drama school, but his usual concerns about this not being a real job dampened my mood a little. When I told my parents that I wanted to be a Broadway theater actor, there was a bit of an argument, but in the end, mom said that if this was really what I wanted, I’d have to work hard for my dreams and that she and dad would support me.

_The thing is that I know that dad supports my dreams, but I can’t understand the concerns he has. Maybe when I get back from the summer program and tell him about what I learned there and how amazing it was, he’ll change his mind? Plus, when I’m 18 and graduate high school, he shouldn’t tell me what to do and not to do, anyway. The only problem is that he’s the one paying for it…_

Just for now, I decide not to think about all these issues anymore and focus on the positive stuff that lies before me. My therapist said that focusing on positive things and having something to look forward to is good for my mental health, so that’s what I’m doing now.

When we arrive, dad drops me of, hands me my backpack and my duffle bag, and tells me to have fun. He says he’ll come pick me up on Monday in two weeks at around four PM, and that I can always call, but I already know that I won’t call. I’m sure that I’ll have the time of my life here, and after a quick hug, I leave and enter the main building where everyone who attends the program will meet for the first time.

_I hope I didn’t pack too much for just two weeks? I got my ballet and workout clothes as well as normal clothes. Are three pairs of shoes too many? I need them to match my outfits…_

xxxxx

“I’m telling you, it was so amazing!” I say for the thousandth time as we sit at the dinner table and talk about what has happened in the past two weeks.

It’s Monday evening and dad and Mike have just picked me up from the summer program. When I saw that Mike had come along to pick me up, we gave each other the biggest hug after he and dad had gotten out of the car. My roommate here was a cool guy and we got along well, but I hadn’t even realized how much I had missed my brother until I saw him again after two weeks of being apart. On the entire ride home, neither of us could shut up about how the previous weeks had been. So far, dad asked a lot of questions and hasn’t said anything negative or mentioned any concerns.

We came home an hour before dinner time, and I was surprised to see that there was a little welcome back party. Mom cooked my favorite food and invited Dave and Anna to celebrate. I had originally planned on calling Dave tonight, but him being here is much better. Anna is like a sister to me by now, so I’m always happy to see her, too. We went from not really liking each other to being friends, good friends and almost siblings in these past years. When I came through the door an hour ago, Jason the dog was overjoyed to see me. Man, I always miss my dog the most when I’m gone for a while.

While we’re all sitting around the table, I tell everyone what courses I took and how I got along with my roommate. He and I were two of only six guys at the summer program, the rest were girls. After telling everyone that we could choose between three different programs, and that I decided to do musical theatre, I explain how I think my voice improved due to the singing class and how my whole body hurts from doing ballet or stretching every single fucking day. We’ve been really busy during the program and have gotten crash courses in all the important subjects that are part of the actual bachelor program that I plan on applying for after high school. The dance and vocal classes were great, but I’ve had the most fun in the theater class. I’m guessing that it just takes my mind off things that usually stress me.

During the past two weeks, I had a great relationship with Professor Montgomery, the man who my teachers introduced to me last schoolyear and who teaches there. This morning after the final event of the summer program, he told me that my voice was unlike everything he had heard so far from someone who has never taken classes before, and that I had a talent for theater. However, he said that I had to work on dancing in order to compete against the other applicants, which is what I’ll do when the ballet class that Dave and I attend will start again after the holidays.

Later, Mike and Anna talk some more about their week in Oregon. Anna has got some news, by the way. She found a job in a new local bookstore where she will help out, organize bookshelves and talk to customers. Actually, she has started this morning, and whilst she is usually the quietest person in our group, she’s now talking endlessly. I’m happy for her. Mom and dad are more than just a little surprised when Anna casually mentions that it’s not a normal bookstore but one that focuses on dark literature. Books about witchcraft and satanism, about goth literature and vampires, about demons and tarot-cards. To be honest, it sounds really fucking cool.

Well, I guess her workplace matches her outfits, or the other way around. She has gotten deeper into the goth culture, which hasn’t gone unnoticed by neither our group of friends nor my parents. Dad has chosen not to say anything about it, though. The more goth-like Anna dresses, the more Mike adores her. It’s actually weird how they are so different and so alike at the same time. She sometimes gets picked on at school for the way she dresses and for the white makeup and dark lipstick, but she has chosen to ignore the mean comments. She doesn’t even wear the makeup every day, only on special occasions.

Then, Dave tells us stories about his camping trip. He also talks a little about how things are with his parents right now, and that his mom has gotten a lot more easy-going since she’s friends with my mom. All in all, we spend an amazing evening, and I am already looking forward to the last few weeks of the summer holidays until our last year at high school begins.

xxxxx

Four weeks later on a warm day in September, I’m sitting in class between Mike and Brad, lazily taking notes. Our senior year in high school has started, and I promised dad to do well this year, at least as good as last year and probably even better. Also, I need decent grades to apply for college. Sure, talent will count more than grades when I apply there, but I have to have a few A’s and B’s, anyway.

These last weeks were fantastic. We had a much better time than during last year’s summer holidays, that’s for sure. Dave and I have gotten closer again, which I’m really glad for. We spent a lot of time at the beach, sometimes just the two of us, sometimes with the whole gang. Also, Mike and I had fun looking at the photos we took in Japan. Remembering the day when we looked at the photos with mom and dad, I have to smile to myself.

_“Are you guys physically unable to pose for a photo together without making faces for the camera?!” dad asks jokingly as we look at the photos we took on vacation._

_“Yes, we are.” Mike replies in the most serious voice ever before we look at each other and burst into laughter._

_When we eventually do find a couple of photos in which Mike and I don’t look as if we had just escaped from a psychiatric hospital, mom and dad frame them and put them with the other photos on the shelf in the living room._

Mike’s and my go-to pose for a photo is usually arm in arm with one or both of us making faces or doing something behind the other’s back to make them look stupid. It’s been like that since I became part of the family, and I don’t think it will change anytime soon.

I snap out of my thoughts when I hear the bell ringing that announces the end of the lesson. Damn, I must have zoned out for quite some time…

Also, Mike and I have found a new way to spend our allowance during the summer holidays. I don’t even know why we haven’t realized this sooner, but there are a lot of concerts in our city. Of course, we’ve been to concerts before, even to ones that match our taste in music instead of these classical music shows our parents sometimes drag us to, but to be honest, we have never been to concerts without either one or both parents, which is kinda embarrassing. We’re old enough to go to a concert alone. It’s even legal to see a show under the age of 18 without an adult, as long as you don’t drink alcohol there.

One day when Mike came home from his job at the movie theater, he told me about the posters he had seen everywhere. They advertised a new club in which small concerts by local, mostly unknown bands will take place. When I heard that the tickets won’t be as expensive as concerts by popular bands, and some shows would even be for free, it was out of question where Mike and I would be spending the following evenings.

Now that school has started again last week, our parents said they wouldn’t let us go if the show takes place on a school night, though, which totally sucks. Our only free nights are now on Friday and Saturday, and we don’t always have time then.

_As if we wouldn’t be responsible enough to be back home in time on a school night…how old do they think we are? I don’t need sleep, I need to go see more bands._

The whole gang has been to those shows by now, and it’s been the best decision in a while. Because of our different tastes in music, Mike and I haven’t been at all of the shows together, but one time, he managed to talk me into joining him at a hiphop show and I’ve dragged him to a small local rock band I’ve grown to love. Last weekend, all of us, including Talinda and some other girls Anna is friends with, went to see some gothic-punk girl band Anna has been telling us about for a while, and I have to say that it was better than expected. Well, the tickets were cheap, we had a good time and the music was somewhere between ‘hey, this is really cool’ and ‘what the fuck is that’, but I liked it.

Also, we found a way to get there that will be cheaper than taking the damn bus every time: Rob, shy and quiet as he is, has gotten his driving license without telling anyone and surprised us by coming to school in his own fucking car! It doesn’t look great, but it can drive, and that’s all that matters for now. So, whenever he’s coming along to see a concert, he drives us there and drops us off at home afterwards.

Now, all of us want to get their driving license as soon as possible, but Mike and I know it will take some time because mom and dad work a lot and don’t always have enough time to give us driving lessons. We’ll slowly get there, though, and our new goal is getting the license before we turn 18 which will be in five months for Mike and six months for me. However, we were surprised in a bad way when we asked our parents to help us learn how to drive. Dad said that he had already thought about teaching us how to drive last year, but then he hadn’t suggested it to us because we caused so much trouble last summer and he and mom thought we weren’t responsible enough yet. Ugh, why do we have to be such idiots sometimes?

xxxxxx

Today it’s therapy Monday again, although I’ve been feeling as if I don’t really need therapy anymore. My mental health has been pretty good these past months because life has been good, too, which is a good thing on one hand, but on the other, it makes me fear that as soon as something bad happens, my anxiety issues will return immediately. The only person that pisses me off at the moment is that asshole P.E. teacher we have, but I’m feeling fine and he can’t possibly piss me off enough to make the anxiety return.

Despite of having to go to therapy, today was a great day so far. We had our yearbook photos taken at school, and Mike looked totally ridiculous. And I _mean_ ridiculous!

He lost a bet and had to get his photo taken in a suit, complete with a bow tie and everything. Fortunately, he had a suit at home for going to fancy restaurants and stuff, but he really didn’t want to go to school like this, which is understandable. Me and the guys insisted, though, and to top it all, I made him sit down in the bathroom this morning and gave him the most idiotic hairstyle I could think of: With a lot of gel, I managed to somehow part his hair in the middle until he looked like some dude from a boyband. He never wears his hair like this, which made it even funnier.

When mom and dad said he looked like a nice young man, I knew the look was perfect. Rob picked us and Brad up, so that Mike didn’t have to humiliate himself on the school bus, and also because we all live in the same neighborhood. So, we went to school and Mike unwillingly got photographed, but he smiled in the photo and made it look as if he was happy about his outfit…I already know that in ten years, I’ll show him the yearbook again and remind of the day when he looked like someone from the Backstreet Boys!

Luckily, I got my picture taken in my normal clothes and with my normal hairstyle. Dad has been telling me to get a haircut again, but I won’t do it. I’m actually thinking about having dreadlocks, but I probably won’t go through with it to keep the peace at home…and because I don’t think Dave would like it. _I’m so glad it wasn’t me losing the bet…hell, I already look nerdy enough with those glasses…maybe I should consider lenses, too, after all?_

“What are you smiling about, Chester?” mom asks on the way to Dr. Baker’s office.

“Oh, nothing. Just about how Mike lost that bet and how he had to go to school today.” I grin, looking out of the window.

“I think he looked very classy. It might not be appropriate for school, but remember that you’ll have to dress nice, as well when you get your graduation photo taken next year. You can’t always wear baggy pants and black band shirts.” she reminds me.

During the rest of the drive, mom tells me about the traffic signs we see, what they mean and how to drive accordingly. I’ll have my license in no time, at least I hope so.

xxxxx

A month later, about two weeks before Halloween, we all sit together at the dinner table again, Dave and Anna are here, too, because they’re always welcome at our house. It’s Friday evening and Dave has just told us that things with his dad are getting a little better. He said that as long as the topic of him being gay and not going to church anymore doesn’t get discussed at his home, he kind of gets along with his dad. Of course, ignoring the elephant in the room isn’t ideal, but everyone is glad that they aren’t fighting as much as before. I’m so happy for Dave, he’s way more relaxed now and not ranting about his parents all the time.

Despite of the good mood, I can sense that something is wrong with Mike and Anna. Mike is anxious, and he’s rarely anxious. It’s always me who’s having those kinds of issues, not him. Ever since he and Anna came back from a walk fifteen minutes ago, something is wrong. They’re not even looking at each other. Usually, they can’t take their eyes off each other, but today, everything is different. Now that I think about it, I remember that Anna has been weird all day. She’s been whispering with Talinda all the time during class which is really unusual because they’re quiet students normally. Maybe I can ask Mike about it tomorrow…


	42. Chapter 42

They had almost finished dinner when Donna decided that it was time to talk to Anna about the suspicion she had had for about two weeks now. She didn’t want to ask in front of everybody, though, to not embarrass her son’s girlfriend in case it wasn’t true…or…in case it actually _was_ true, which Donna certainly hoped was not the case. But she had noticed all of the early signs. Over the last two weeks, she had seen a change in Anna, and especially today, after Anna and Michael had come to dinner after taking a suspiciously long walk, Donna knew she had to ask. They had been trying and failing to act natural, and she had immediately noticed that something was off.

When everyone was finished eating and Muto started to clear the table, asking Chester to help him load the dishwasher, Donna had made a decision. Anna and Mike were about to go upstairs, and Donna had actually wanted to get some yard work done. She looked through the glass door for a second, contemplating how to address the topic.

_Redoing the patio has taken longer than we thought it would_ , she thought absently. _But it looks great now, it has really improved the backyard. With the new pool and everything, we knew it was time to get the patio done, too. We’ve been living in this house for 18 years, sometimes things need to get renewed…Gosh, why am I thinking about this now? There are more important issues. I should calm down and get it over with._

Getting up from the table, Donna walked over to Anna, who was currently whispering about something with Mike. Somehow, she thought she knew about what.

“Anna? Can I talk to you for a minute?” Donna asked, opening the door to the patio so that they could talk in private.

“Uh, sure.” Anna replied, feeling anxiety creep through every fiber of her body. Squeezing Mike’s right hand that she was holding, she told him that they’d talk later.

While Anna followed her boyfriend’s mom outside, she was certain that Donna knew what was up. She had become a second mother to her over the years, which would hopefully make the following conversation easier. Quietly closing the door behind herself, Anna sat down with Donna on the wooden bench in the garden.

“So, um, what did you want to talk about?” she asked while nervously picking at her dark purple fingernails. It was a beautifully colored nail polish she had borrowed from Chester, and it went great with the purple details on her t-shirt.

“I’ve noticed that you’ve been acting differently lately and I think I know why.” Donna said straightforwardly. She had a feeling about what Anna and Mike were trying to hide, and if her suspicion turned out to be correct, she shouldn’t beat around the bush.

“Okay…like how?” Anna asked, still trying to avoid the truth.

She was staring at her black skirt with the little silver skulls on it and tried to breathe normally.

“Well, for example you seem like you don’t like certain foods and drinks you used to enjoy, and you’re running to the toilet every ten minutes.” Donna said in a calm voice, trying to be as careful and sensitive as possible about this subject. “Just earlier at dinner you said you didn’t feel like eating fish today, and you looked as if you were about to throw up when you smelled the sushi, which has never happened before. Only in these last few weeks you developed aversions to food you always liked before, and I also noticed that you seemed much moodier than you ever were. Plus, I could see that there was something wrong between you and Michael earlier. I know that you two are almost adults and that I shouldn’t get involved in your relationship, but…it just made me wonder.”

“Oh my god, you noticed all of this?” Anna whispered, still not looking up.

“Honestly, I was wondering why no one else has noticed. But I guess women just know those things.”

Sighing, Anna closed her eyes for a second, fidgeting with her hands in her lap.

“So…my question is… Anna…are you pregnant?”

Right then and there, Anna broke down. She threw her arms around Donna, needing someone to hold her right now. There was no point in denying the truth anymore.

“Y-yes…I…I am.” she sobbed, still hugging Donna and not letting go. “I…I, I’m sorry…”

“Shhh, no. Don’t be sorry.” Donna tried to soothe her.

She knew she had to stay calm and not let the conversation escalate. For a few minutes, they just sat there while Donna held the girl that had become like a daughter to her; the daughter she always wanted and never got.

“Have you told your parents already?” she asked in a quiet voice after several minutes had passed.

“Yeah…” Anna replied, crying silently and wiping the tears away with the back of her hand. She didn’t care about ruining her mascara. Right now, her make up didn’t matter.

“I, I told them yesterday…”

“Did you make a pregnancy test, too? You know, to be sure?”

“Hmhm…I…I hadn’t gotten my period in over four weeks, and I got nervous, but I thought that maybe it would just be late this month.”

“Alright, this can happen.” Donna sighed.

“Yeah, and…and then six weeks had passed and I still hadn’t gotten my period, and I hadn’t told anyone yet, so I went to the pharmacy yesterday morning before school…and, um…well, I made the first test in the rest room during the break and…and, well, it was positive and I totally freaked out. Then I made two more tests at home before I told my parents.” Anna admitted, remembering how she had peed on three small, white sticks, how she had waited anxiously and had gotten the same, terrible result every time. How she had called her best friend, terrified and not knowing what to do. There had been a lot of drama at her parents’ house yesterday, it was awful.

“You need to go see a doctor, you know that, don’t you?”

“I know…” she replied, her voice weak and shaking. “I…I have an appointment on T-tuesday.”

Forcing herself to calmly breathe in and out, Donna thought about the millions of questions she had. Now wasn’t the time to attack the poor girl with accusations, but she had to admit that she was indeed angry with Anna and Michael. Having sex without a condom was irresponsible, everyone knew that.

“Good. And…Anna, if you don’t mind me asking…how did your parents react?”

“They…they were shocked. And angry at first…but they said they would support whatever decision I would make.”

Anna thought back to yesterday evening, when she had had almost the exact same conversation she was having now with her own parents. She knew they would always support her, but it had been a hard confession to make. Usually, her parents were so relaxed about everything, and not nearly as strict as Mike’s parents, but apparently, getting pregnant at 17 years old wasn’t something they tolerated.

“And I guess you told Michael about it earlier?”

Anna nodded, suddenly unable to speak. She had broken the embrace and was now sitting in the corner of the bench.

“Hey, look at me.” Donna said in a gentle voice.

Anna shook her head, almost hyperventilating when new tears forced their way down her cheeks. She eventually managed to look up, though, relieved that the conversation hadn’t gone as catastrophic as he had feared yesterday evening when she had realized that she didn’t only have to confess to her parents, but also to Mike and his parents. She liked Donna and Muto, she really did. Her parents liked them and she knew that whenever things with her own parents weren’t easy for whatever reason, she could turn to Mike’s parents for advice, but telling them about being pregnant was a total nightmare. She felt sick, even more nauseous than she had been earlier when she had smelled the sushi that she normally loved.

“Yes…yes, I, I told him today. We _wanted_ to tell you earlier at dinner, I promise, but…we just didn’t know how to say it.”

“I understand.”

“And, um…last night, mom wanted to call you and tell you about it, but I said I could do it myself.” Anna explained. “She’s gonna call soon, anyway, I guess. But…is it still okay that I stay over tonight? I don’t wanna go home right now.”

“Of course you can stay. No one is going to make you leave. But…Anna…why on earth didn’t you use protection? You know how important that is. I thought you were on the pill, weren’t you? Or at least using condoms?”

Something that Anna loved about her boyfriend’s mom was that she wasn’t afraid of answering questions or giving advice about those intimate things. She vividly remembered that day when she was 14 and had been together with Mike for only a few months.

xxxxx

_As far as she knew, she was the last girl in her class to get her period for the first time. She was aware that 14 was a bit late, but apparently, she just needed more time than other girls to become a woman. Of course, she could talk openly about these things with her own mother, too, but that day she just happened to be at Mike’s parents’ house until she was supposed to go home after dinner._

_So when they had come home from school, she went to the toilet and suddenly noticed a big bloody spot in her light blue panties, and naturally, she was torn between being happy about finally getting her period and thus being a ‘real’ woman like every girl in her class called it, and shocked because she was overwhelmed and didn’t know what to do in that moment. She was in the upstairs bathroom, the one that Mike and Chester shared, so there were absolutely no lady products in the cabinet. She had quickly placed various layers of toilet paper in her underwear, thinking about what to do now. She ended up discreetly asking Donna about it, because who else could she ask in this house full of guys?_

_“Um, Donna…I, I have a problem.” she asked after going downstairs, praying that there wouldn’t be a visible spot on the back of her jeans._

_“What is it?”_

_“It’s a…a girl problem.”_

_“_ _Okay. You know you can ask me anything.”_

_“I, I…I think I just got my period for the first time. It’s bleeding so much and, and - “ she whispered even though they were alone in the kitchen._

_“Oh, shh. No need to freak out. Do you want me to drive you home?”_

_“Yeah…but what do I tell Mike?”_

_“Just say you don’t feel well.”_

_“Okay, but, um…I need something to stop the bleeding! Do you have pads or anything? There are none upstairs and I just need something to – “ she rambled, her voice sounding a little panicked._

_“Hey, try to calm down, okay? It’s going to be fine.”_

_“Okay.” she replied, not calming down one bit._

_“I currently only have tampons here, but this won’t be a problem.” Donna said as they went to the downstairs bathroom together. “They’re in the upper drawer in the cabinet. Take one of the small ones and put them in slowly. I’ll wait outside.”_

_About a minute later behind the closed door of the bathroom, Anna was close to having a complete melt-down._

_“Ugh, I can’t do this!”_

_“Of course you can.”_

_“Oh my god…how do I…it hurts…it doesn’t go in…”_

_“Breathe, okay? Relax and put one leg onto the edge of the bathtub.”_

_“O-okay. I’m doing that.”_

_“Good. Now feel for the opening and gently push the tampon inside.”_

_“But it hurts! It feels so weird!” she argued._

_“Shh, I know. It might hurt at first but it’s your only option right now. Try to relax and don’t clench your muscles, okay? There’s no reason to be afraid.”_

_“But…but…what if I destroy something, you know…down there?”_

_“You can’t destroy anything, don’t worry. Just follow my instructions.” Donna talked her through it, and ten terribly long minutes later, Anna had the job done._

_“Okay, I think it’s inside now.”_

_“It doesn’t hurt much, does it?”_

_“Um, n-no. I don’t think so.”_

_“See? That wasn’t so hard.”_

_“No, it wasn’t.” Anna giggled. “It was fine. What now? It won’t fall out, right?”_

_“Just wash your hands and come out. And no, it won’t just fall out. I’ll drive you home and we’ll make a quick stop at the store to buy everything you need.”_

_When Donna had dropped Anna off at home, they had bought tampons, pads and chocolate. Everything Anna needed for her new life as a woman instead of a girl._

xxxxx

“Um, I, I used to be on the pill.” she eventually answered. “But it kinda messed with my mood and everything really badly, so mom and I decided that it wasn’t an option for me.”

Anna was blushing terribly while she explained everything, but she knew she had to tell the truth. She had told the same story to her own mom yesterday, and this time, it wasn’t any easier. “And, um…we do use, um, you know…condoms usually, but…that one time we didn’t and we thought that it wouldn’t be that bad…we thought that if we didn’t use it just one time, nothing would happen.”

“Why would you think that?” Donna asked in a louder voice than intended.

“I don’t know! It just happened! I can’t change it now…”

She wasn’t about to mention that this ‘one time’ hadn’t been the first time that she and Mike hadn’t used condoms and had hoped that nothing would go wrong.

“That’s right. It has happened and you have to deal with it. So…what do you plan to do?”

“You mean if I want to keep the child?” Anna whispered.

“Yes.”

“I, I don’t know. It’s all so…ugh, I’m not sure. Mom and dad said it’s my decision.”

“It is. But, Anna, you’re 17. Not even out of high school.”

“I know…”

“I’m not telling you what to do, but I am telling you to regularly see a doctor and really think about what you want.”

“That’s what my parents said, too.”

For a long time, both women didn’t say a word, just sitting on the bench in the garden before Donna spoke again.

“Are you ready to go back inside?”

“I guess I am.” Anna mumbled, sniffling into a paper tissue.

xxxxx

Meanwhile inside, Mike was pacing in the living room, occasionally glancing through the glass door. He hadn’t answered neither his brother’s nor his father’s questions about what was going on. The two of them were sitting on the couch; Muto trying to calm his son down and asking him what was wrong, and Chester sitting on the very edge, bouncing his left leg up and down and petting the dog. He had originally planned on taking Jason for a walk after dinner, but that had to wait for now.

“Just talk to me, Michael. What’s wrong?”

“I, I…I can’t talk now, dad.”

After Muto and Chester had returned from loading the dishwasher and quickly cleaning up in the kitchen, they had found Mike sitting at the dinner table, his head in his hands and stealing a glance through the door into the garden from time to time, watching what was happening outside.

“Come on, just sit down with us.”

“No.”

Muto stood up from the couch, walking over to Mike who seemed more anxious than he had ever seen him before. Contrary to his wife, Muto wasn’t as good at reading emotions and noticing when something was off. He did, however, see right away when a person was not telling the truth. He gently placed his hands on mike’s shoulders, stopping him from pacing in the living room.

“Michael. Tell me what’s going on. I won’t be mad.”

“Yes, you will.”

“Just talk to me, okay?”

“No…”

Sighing, Muto let his gaze wander into the backyard where his wife and Anna obviously had an emotional conversation.

“Come on, Anna is crying out there. What happened?”

Again, Mike shook his head. For the first time in his life, there was a problem that he didn’t know how to solve. Was it even a problem? When Anna had told him about it earlier, he had been absolutely shocked, not knowing what to say or how to feel. Still didn’t. The only thing he was sure of was that his dad would be angry. Would be disappointed. Would blame him and accuse him of being irresponsible.

He was about to sit down at the table and confess everything when his mom and Anna came back in. He and Anna shared a silent look that said more than a thousand words.

“Let’s all sit down.” Donna said, waiting for everyone to take a seat.

“What’s going on, honey?” Muto asked, seeing from the corner of his eyes how Mike and Anna grabbed each other’s hands.

Chester looked at Mike, suddenly having a suspicion. _It must be something big. Something that he thinks mom and dad will be really angry about. Can I do anything to help him? I hate when he doesn’t tell me stuff_.

“So, um…” Anna began, squeezing Mike’s hand. “I’ll just get it over with.”

She looked over to Donna one more time, who gave her a reassuring smile.

“I’m pregnant.” she announced in a quiet tone.

Time seemed to stand still. Nobody said anything. She felt Mike’s arm wrap around her shoulder, and she saw Chester mouth the word ‘fuck’.

“Excuse me, what?” Muto asked when a minute or two had passed.

“She, she said she’s pregnant.” Mike replied, looking down on the table.

“I heard that, but…why…how…you are 17!”

“Darling, calm down.” Donna intervened, covering her husband’s hand with hers.

“No, I will not calm down! What were you thinking?!”

Anna was done answering questions for today. It had been a disastrous two days and all she wanted was to lie in bed and eat ice cream. It was time for Mike to answer some questions, too; it wasn’t only her responsibility. Also, she had to pee again. Oh, how this sucked.

“Will you not yell at her, dad?” Mike spoke up, raising his voice.

“I am not yelling. How did this happen?”

“How do you think it happened…” Chester mumbled under his breath, earning a glare from his father.

“I thought I could trust you two to be responsible about this.”

“I’m sorry, dad.” Mike said, avoiding eye contact. “It’s just that…ugh…I can’t explain it…we didn’t think anything bad would happen.”

“Michael, you had sex without a condom, what did you _think_ would happen?!” Donna hissed.

Before Mike had a chance to answer, the ringing of the telephone interrupted them.

“That’s my mom.” Anna said quietly, and Donna was already on her way to the phone.

“I can’t believe this.” Muto said, shaking his head before looking at Anna. “How could you be this irresponsible?”

“Hey, wait! It’s not only my fault, Mike had a role in this, too.” she defended herself, standing up from the table.

Muto knew she was right, he knew that Michael was guilty, too. He watched his son follow Anna upstairs and heard him slam the door of his room. While his wife was on the phone with Anna’s mother, Chester announced that he would take Jason the dog for a walk.

“Yeah, sure. Be back in an hour, okay? It will get dark soon.”

“Sure, dad.” Chester said and a minute later he was already out the door.

He knew that it wouldn’t be a good idea to try to talk to Mike and Anna now, and he certainly didn’t want to be alone with his pissed off parents, so the only possibility was to escape the drama and take the dog for a walk. Meanwhile, Muto sat at the table, listening to his wife talking to Anna’s parents on the phone. It was outrageous that Mike had gotten Anna pregnant at such a young age. Outrageous! Irresponsible and stupid. They weren’t even finished with school yet. He was so angry.

“Honey?”

“Yes?”

“I just got off the phone. Anna’s parents will come over tomorrow for breakfast so that we can talk about everything.”

“Good.” Muto sighed.

“…That’s all you have to say?”

“No, I…I just don’t know what to say at all anymore.”

xxxxx

On Saturday morning at around 9 am, Anna’s parents arrived. It was mid-October, but still pretty warm so that they had breakfast outside on the new patio. Whilst sitting next to Mike, Chester thought that their parents always made such a fuss about everything. He watched his parents and Anna’s parents argue, and wisely kept his mouth shut for once, only observing the situation.

_Every little issue we have turns into drama…everything that’s a bigger issue turns into these legendary family conferences…and now Anna looks like she’s about to cry again…why don’t they just give her some space? It’s so obvious that she needs some alone time and yet everyone is bothering her._

Last night when Chester had returned from his walk with Jason, he had quickly gone upstairs to finally talk with his brother and Anna in private, without their parents annoying the hell out of them. He had knocked and entered Mike’s room, finding the two of them chilling on the bed, just sitting there and talking.

_Sometimes they just hang out together in comfortable silence. Anna reading a book and Mike drawing, or something. They don’t always have to make out or do something exciting when they’re alone, sometimes they just like to be together and do separate things. It’s actually pretty cute._

It reminded him of himself and Dave. They could be together but kind of apart, as well. Chester would write in his diary or play guitar and Dave would read a comic or even prepare something for school. Last night, however, Chester hadn’t been able to call his boyfriend, like he had originally planned. Last night, he had to be there for Mike and Anna. He had listened and held hands, and he had even been able to cheer them up a little.

All of their homework had to wait for this afternoon or tomorrow because especially Mike hadn’t been able to focus at all. Anna had worried about going back to school, and what would happen if anyone outside of her circle of friends would find out that she was pregnant. And oh god, she also had to tell her boss and her co-worker at the book store about being pregnant. Would she lose her job just because of this? She was pregnant, not sick. Helping out at the book store after school on three days a week was something she absolutely loved and didn’t want to lose.

This morning, Chester watched how Mike kept his arm wrapped around Anna’s shoulders the entire time, and how she anxiously picked on her purple nails.

“So the question is, do you want to keep the child or not?” Anna’s dad asked.

“What? I…I’m not sure. I haven’t even been to the doctor yet. But, um…to be honest, I think I wanna keep it.”

“In that case, you and Michael will obviously have to get married.” Muto said.

“Excuse me?!” Mike asked.

“We’re not getting marred yet, no way.” Anna added.

“Yes. I, I mean…I love you, Anna.” Mike continued to explain. “But I’m not sure if we should marry yet, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

Late last night after Chester had gone to bed, Mike and Anna had had a serious discussion about how this morning would go, and they had decided that they would of course stay together, but that they would wait and see and not do anything rushed. No big decisions yet, that was the deal.

“But you’re having a child.”

“Yes, _I_ am having a child, not you!” she said to Muto.

”Yes, who says we have to get married?” Mike asked, stroking a thumb over his girlfriend’s shoulder.

“You have to admit that this is a little old-fashioned, honey.” Donna reminded her husband.

“It might be old-fashioned but it’s also the right way to go.”

“You don’t have to be married before your child gets born.” Anna’s mother interrupted. “We got married years after Anna was born.” she added as she gestured between herself and her husband.

For the next several minutes, the parents continued to argue until Anna had enough. She stood up and slammed her palm down onto the wooden garden table. Usually, she was such a quiet person, but all of this drama just stressed her out so much that she felt the need to say something.

_This is about me, they have no right to decide anything_ , she thought angrily.

“Can all of you just shut up, please? I am not getting married anytime soon, okay? I’ll go see the doctor next week and then I’ll know more about all this! If I decide to keep it, that is _my_ decision, and if I don’t wanna keep it that’s _my_ decision, too. It is my body and my choice, none of you have anything to say in it!” she raged before squeezing Mike’s hand, pushing her chair back and storming out of the garden and back into the house.

The whole morning had ended just like Donna had feared it would. She and Muto had calmly talked it out with Anna’s parents afterwards, while Mike and Chester had gone after Anna to stop her from walking all the way home. After Anna and her parents had left, Mike and Chester had disappeared upstairs in Mike’s room. It had been a bad day in general, and it wasn’t even lunch time yet.

xxxxx

“Hey, Mike?” Chester asked when he had entered Mike’s room.

“Huh?”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Hmhm.”

_Damn, he’s even more stubborn than me…_

“Then what do you wanna do?”

“I just wanna sit here.”

“Okay.”

“I meant alone. I wanna sit here _alone_ , Chaz.”

“Hell, no. I’ll stay.”

“Whatever.” Mike replied, not in the mood to argue.

Mike laid on his bed with his arms crossed behind his head, while Chester sat on the rug with his back to the wall. For several minutes, it was silent in the room as Chester read in the book that Anna had left here. From time to time he glanced over to Mike who was staring at the white ceiling, not moving a muscle and obviously deep in thought.

When Chester had actually become really interested in the book and hadn’t checked on his brother for a while, he suddenly looked up because he had heard the unmistakable sound of Mike trying to suppress crying, something that Chester hadn’t heard or seen in ages. He got up and sat down on the edge of the mattress.

_Mike never cries. He just doesn’t. The last time I’ve seen him cry was probably when we were like 12 or something, so a really long time ago_ , Chester thought.

“It’s gonna be okay, Mike.”

“Nothing’s gonna be okay!” Mike argued, wiping tears from his wet cheeks. It was so embarrassing to cry, but he couldn’t help it.

“…You wanna be alone?” Chester asked carefully.

On the one hand, he didn’t want to leave Mike alone, and on the other he knew from experience that sometimes, being alone was the only way to clear one’s head.

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Hmhm…I’m gonna be fine, Chaz. Don’t worry.”

Chester felt bad about leaving Mike alone like this, but it was obvious that Mike didn’t want any company right now.

“Okay, see ya at lunch, then.”

With that, Chester closed the door and entered his own room, turning his stereo on and deciding to do some homework because there was literally nothing else to do right now. He’d write in his diary later today, depending on how the day would turn out.

xxxxx

After lunch, Chester had called Dave, telling him that he, Mike and Anna wouldn’t come to the club tonight. Although Saturday had turned into the day they usually went to see a concert, today really wasn’t the day for that. When Chester had told his boyfriend about Anna’s pregnancy, Dave had been just as shocked as Chester had been yesterday evening, and had totally understood that they didn’t feel like going to a show tonight.

While Mike and Chester were walking up the stairs to their rooms, Chester had enough. Lunch had been terrible because their parents had avoided bringing up what had happened this morning, and every attempt to talk about something different somehow went wrong, too, so they ended up not talking about anything. Now, Chester was tired of Mike sulking and acting like he was the one being pregnant and having his whole life changed.

“You know what? I have an idea what we can do that will distract you.”

“Oh really, Chaz?” Mike asked, obviously still in a terrible mood. “And what would that be?”

“Math. We have tons of homework and you need to think of something else right now.”

“You seriously wanna do math?”

“Well, no. I never want to, but I did all the other homework already and now we’ll do math so you can think of something else and then we’ll go to the skate park.”

“Ugh, fine. Whatever you want, I don’t care…”

“Oh, come on, Mike. I know you’re worried. I’m worried, too, but you can’t be sad all day.” Chester said, digging the math textbook out of the depths of Mike’s backpack and shoving it into his hands.

xxxxx

Later that week, the doctor had told Anna that she was indeed seven weeks pregnant by now. She wanted to go to school for as long as it was possible during the pregnancy, and even though all of her plans for the future were disrupted, she wanted to find a way to deal with it.

She was overwhelmed and tired, she had to focus on her senior year in school and help out at the book store, and most of all, she was terrified everyone at school would find out about the pregnancy. Although she knew that her belly probably wouldn’t show until several more weeks had passed, she already started wearing larger shirts that hid her upper body. The thought that constantly found its way into her mind was the one whether to keep the baby or not. She had told her parents that she wanted to keep it, but secretly, she was scared and uncertain.

She wasn’t ready to be a mother, and she knew damn well that Mike wasn’t ready to be a father. Just a few more months in school and then he’d go to college. Anna had planned on going to college, as well. She had wanted to study English literature or anything related to that. Maybe she’d write a book someday? That was what she had always wanted to do. Being an author was her dream, and whilst being a mother was surely going to be great, too, she just wasn’t ready now. Hell, she wasn’t even 18 yet.

_Maybe in ten years from now, maybe in fifteen years. I just don’t know anything anymore,_ she thought as she stubbornly decorated her room for Halloween in order to distract herself.

Of course, both her family and Mike’s family had her back and would help and support her whenever she needed it, but at the end of the day it would be her body that would birth a child. It would be her life that would change. As she was lining up little figurines of pumpkins, black cats and bats on the shelf next to desk, her thoughts were running wild.

_I don’t want this. Or do I?_


	43. Chapter 43

Ever since he came to live with the Shinodas, Halloween had been one of Chester’s favorite holidays. Christmas came first, of course, but Halloween was a close second. They celebrated all the big holidays, American and Japanese. In these past few years, Halloween had become special, though, because since they had grown out of trick or treating, there had been an annual Halloween party at Anna’s parents’ house. Mike and especially Chester still enjoyed the tricking part, though, which always resulted in screwing with the neighbors’ yards when they were on their way home from Anna’s party.

However, this year was a little different. It would be their last Halloween party before everyone in their group of friends would graduate high school and go their own ways. Plus, even though only her closest friends, who all knew about the pregnancy, would come tonight, Anna had tried her best to find a costume that hid her belly. It didn’t show yet because it was much too early for that, but she wanted to hide any signs of a baby belly for as long as possible. She was stressed, she was under so much pressure, and most of all, she wanted to forget all that pressure just for tonight. It would be the perfect Halloween party, and she wouldn’t think about any of her worries for the entire evening.

Usually, Mike and Chester would either walk the distance to Anna’s neighborhood or get dropped off there by their parents. Another thing that was different this year was that they would neither walk nor get driven there by their parents. No, this year, Rob had picked them and Brad up and would drive everyone home at the end of the night, since he was still the only one with a car and a license. Mike would spend the night at Anna’s, while Dave would come back to Chester’s and sleep over there. All of them were making efforts to learn how to drive before they’d graduate high school, and it was going pretty well for everyone.

When Mike, Chester, Brad and Rob stepped through the door, they were instantly greeted by the typical smell of a Halloween party at Anna’s parents’ house. Pumpkin soup and pumpkin pie and pumpkin muffins. There were cookies that looked like black cats and napkins folded in the shape of bats, and in the background, there was goth rock playing. To be exact, it was a tape of the goth girl band they had seen at the club a few weeks ago. Outside in the front yard were carved pumpkins and other spooky decorations. It was as perfect as every year.

Dave and Joe lived a little farther away and would arrive in a few more minutes, and when they eventually did, the group costume their gang had decided on was completed. This year, all six of the boys went as zombies, with more or less professionally done make up that they had done themselves. Joe had brought his camera, just like he did to every major party. Dave’s parents didn’t really approve of Halloween, as it was not a Christian holiday, but he celebrated it with his friends, anyway.

Mike and Chester had brought their mother’s homemade yakitori skewers. They didn’t have anything to do with Halloween at all, but they were always welcome at every party, especially because of the sweet teriyaki dip that Chester had insisted on making all by himself this time. He was getting really good at cooking, so that his mother sometimes let him cook dinner on his own.

xxxxx

“So what do you say, Dave? Should we go check out that new karaoke bar next week?” Chester whispered to his boyfriend as they sat together in one of the armchairs in the living room. Technically, it was Dave sitting in the armchair, and Chester sat on Dave’s lap with his legs dangling over the armrest.

The party guests had played games and eaten plenty of the food by now. Also, the music had stopped and they had just started watching a horror movie. Everyone had found a place in front of the tv, since it wasn’t a big party, less than twenty people who sat together in small groups. It wasn’t nearly as wild as some of the other house parties Chester had been to, but that wasn’t important. Halloween parties at Anna’s were always about having a nice little gathering between lots and lots of evil pumpkins and black paper bats.

“But we’re not 18 yet, and far from 21, do you think we’ll even get in?” Dave asked back, keeping his voice low.

“Oh, sure. I’ve asked around at school and everyone says that unless we leave the bar before midnight and don’t drink, we can go. Some girls from my English class have already been there, and they say that karaoke night is absolutely fucking dope.”

“Really? Then we can go!” Dave replied, immediately getting excited.

“We can! I’m sure it’ll be so much fun!”

Now that next Friday’s night was planned, Chester and Dave went back to drinking their apple ciders and feeding each other the rest of the Halloween themed cookies in the bowl they had taken from the table earlier. They weren’t paying that much attention to the movie yet, but Dave knew very well that as soon as it would get just slightly scary, Chester would cuddle up to him like a frightened kitten, and he was already looking forward to cuddling him.

“It’s a shame there’s no booze in here.” he complained, whispering in Chester’s ear as to not disturb the others during the movie.

“Yeah…”

Chester hadn’t had alcohol since that fateful night out last summer, and as far as he knew, Dave hadn’t drank since the party at Brad’s parents’ house last December. Both of them really wanted to have a drink again, but they knew it would be better if they waited until they were old enough.

_Soon I’ll be 18. And then 21 won’t be too far away anymore,_ Chester told himself, cursing his alcohol free drink and glancing over to Mike and Anna sitting in one corner of the couch, and Talinda and her new boyfriend in the other corner.

_I can’t stand that prick. She deserves so much better than him. Yeah, we broke up like three years ago, even longer, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about her anymore. We’re not really close friends, but we get along and can act civil around each other. I don’t miss being with her, either, I just think that the guy she’s dating right now is a fucking asshole._

Chester remembered the first time he had seen Talinda kiss another boy after they had broken up. It had been on some class trip in 8th or 9th grade, so it felt like a million years ago, but he could clearly remember that feeling when he walked by a corridor and saw them leaning against the wall, kissing and being all lovey-dovey. A second later, Talinda had noticed Chester standing there, and they had made eye contact. Another second later, Chester had looked away and kept walking. It had hurt, and he and Talinda hadn’t been on friendly terms back then. They weren’t even speaking to each other at the time of that class trip. Back then he hadn’t met Dave yet, so seeing Talinda kiss another boy had been like having your heart sliced open with a samurai sword.

Now, many years later and almost finished with high school, it didn’t hurt seeing her kiss someone else, and it hadn’t hurt for years, but the guy Talinda was dating now was just weird.

_He’s such an arrogant prick. He’s on the high school swim team and he got even better grades than Mike and everyone loves him, but I’ve heard the way he talks about girls when he’s with his friends. I’d never talk like that. None of my friends would, either. And he doesn’t even treat Talinda right._

As the movie went on, Chester chose not to think about that guy anymore, and instead focused on the tv screen. It was indeed getting pretty scary and he snuggled up to Dave like he always did when they watched a movie. Grabbing a blanket from the armrest of the couch next to them, Dave put it over himself and Chester before he stole a glance at Mike and Anna.

I _can’t even imagine what they’re going through right now. Anna is stressed out of her mind, but at least she has so much support from all sides. Her parents are there for her, as well as Mike’s parents and their friends. If Chester were a girl and I had gotten him pregnant, my parents would disown me. They really would. We would have to leave town and start a new life. I think my parents would either totally abandon me or force us to have the baby and live their happy church dream life. Or at least dad would force us to do so. Anna has a choice. She can choose to keep the baby or not, and her parents would still support any choice she made._

_Yes, she wants to keep it and I’m happy for them, but sometimes it also seems unfair to me that she and Mike don’t have the same kind of problems that Chaz and I have. We had to overcome so many obstacles until we could be openly gay, and we don’t have that much support, at least not from my side of the family. For Anna and Mike, everything is easy. Right now I can see that there’s some tension because of the pregnancy thing, but they’ll figure that out, too._

While Dave sipped on his cider, Chester rested his head on his chest and discretely covered his eyes with his hands. He’d never admit that he sometimes got scared while watching horror movies, but he and Dave both were aware of that anyway; they didn’t have to talk about it. From the corner of his eye he saw Mike and Anna cuddling on the couch and not looking away from the tv screen for one second. They loved watching scary movies together.

_They’re cute together_ , he thought. _Mike tries not to show it, but I know that he is thinking about Anna being pregnant all the time. He’s just as stressed out as she is, and today is actually one of the few times that he and Anna talked about something other than the pregnancy. Tonight, she’s wearing those fake vampire fangs that he totally loves. Well, I can’t blame him, they do look badass. I’ve even overheard him ask her if she wanted to wear them outside of Halloween parties…_

_I’m still worried about him, though. Mom keeps telling him that the whole thing is not just Anna’s fault and that he has to help her make a choice. Yesterday at dinner, there was a huge fight and he had to sit through an entire lecture about responsibility and all that crap. I felt so fucking bad for him._

Chester abandoned his worrying thoughts and dared to look at the screen again. There would be another time to think about the current situation with Mike and Anna. Now, it was time to snuggle deeper under the blanket Dave had thrown over the both of them.

xxxxx

Half a month after the Halloween party, Mike’s mood had lifted a little. He and Anna had had a lot of serious talks lately, and even though they were still scared and not feeling ready at all, they had sworn to each other that whatever happened, they would always be there for one another. Things at home weren’t as difficult anymore, either, which was a relief. Today it wasn’t himself and Anna or the lectures of his parents he was worried about.

Today it was Chester. He had gotten in trouble in school again, and as Mike opened the door and greeted Jason the dog who came running towards him, he hoped that his parents weren’t home yet. His dad would come home from work around six, sometimes earlier, and his mom came home at half past five, now that she worked full time instead of only part time. On some days, though, she left the office earlier.

_Like today. Fuck_ , he thought as he left his shoes and jacket in the hallway and the smell of cooking hit his nose.

“I’m home!” he announced, walking into the kitchen.

“Oh Hey, Michael.” Donna replied while she was slicing vegetables. “How was school?”

“It was fine. I got that essay back we had to hand in last week, and I got a B.”

“That’s great, pumpkin. I’m glad you’re keeping up the good grades.” she said when she noticed that Michael had come home alone. “Where’s your brother?”

_What do I do? I have to distract her._

“And can you imagine it? Brad got a C- ! He was bragging all week about how the topic he chose for his essay was the best, and – “

“I asked you a question, Michael.” Donna reminded him, cursing herself for sounding so harsh. “As far as I know, you two always come home from school at the same time.”

“He, um, he…I think there was a meeting with his theater club.” Mike lied.

“You told me that last week.”

“Well, they have another meeting this week.”

“I don’t believe you.”

The last time Chester had had ‘a meeting with his theater group’ it had later turned out that he had had an argument with a teacher which had resulted in detention. Later, Chester had told her that it had even been the second time this had happened.

“What?! Mom! I swear, I’m telling the truth!”

“No, you’re not. And you should know better than to lie.”

“Ugh…” Mike groaned, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Okay, I lied. I’m sorry.”

He was still hoping to somehow distract his mom from asking about Chester, but apparently, this tactic wasn’t about to work out.

Donna placed the tomatoes she had been slicing aside and looked at Mike. It was obvious that he was lying for his brother, just like he had done before. Just like they always did for each other.

“Michael.”

“Huh?”

“Where’s Chester?”

“Still at school, like I said, but…but not with his theater group.” he admitted.

“Why would he still be at school, then? You two have almost the same schedules.” Donna pointed at the two handwritten schedules that stuck to the refrigerator with tiny magnets.

“Almost.” Mike argued, knowing that his mom was well aware that he was trying to cover for Chester.

“He got sent to detention again, didn’t he?”

“Uh…no…”

“You can just tell me, Michael.”

The discussion went on for a while until finally, Chester came home. The new gym teacher was really fucking pissing him off. Since the beginning of the schoolyear, Chester had already skipped gym class five times just to avoid the teacher that he hated the most. Actually, he wasn’t even the only student who didn’t like Mr. Anderson. P.E. just wasn’t fun anymore with that teacher…

To be fair, P.E. had never been Chester’s favorite subject anyway because he was so accident-prone. He tripped over his own feet and he wasn’t the best at throwing and catching a ball. In fact, most of the times he ended up getting hit in the face by said ball.

The ballet classes had improved his balance and he had gotten a little more muscular, and he thought that maybe someday he could get more in shape. Also, it wasn’t that he was bad at P.E. No, he was a fast runner and was relatively strong, but that new teacher was really killing all the fun in gym class. He was overly strict and took everything too seriously. Plus, the fact that Chester hadn’t been that respectful towards him probably wasn’t ideal, either.

_But he’s an ass. It wasn’t my best moment when I called hm a dickhead but I’ll find a way to explain it to mom and dad._

“Hey, I’m home.” Chester mentioned casually when he strolled into the open living room and kitchen area. He had dumped his backpack next to Mike’s in the hallway and was now walking into a pretty tense atmosphere. It was probably because his mom was home early today and had noticed that Mike came home before him. Or, more specifically, she had noticed that he was late. Again. Chester bent down to cuddle his dog for a quick minute and then faced the situation in the kitchen.

“Where have you been?” Donna immediately asked.

Chester glanced at Mike leaning against the counter, but when his brother shrugged his shoulders at him and shook his head, Chester knew he had to explain everything on his own.

“I’ve been at school.” he answered honestly. If this had been the first time he had screwed up at school, there wouldn’t be the need for further explanation, but unfortunately, there was a note he had to show to his parents.

“Oh, really? Why did you have to stay late?”

“Because I have a presentation in biology tomorrow and I had to look something up in the library.” he lied smoothly, trying not to think about the note in his pocket.

“Really? Are you sure it doesn’t have anything to do with your theater group?” Donna asked, already knowing that her son had certainly not been with either his theater group nor at the library.

“Uh, no. Today is Thursday and my group always meets on Tuesday.”

In the corner of the kitchen, Mike was still leaning against the counter, closing his eyes and cursing under his breath. This was getting worse and worse…

“Chester, pumpkin, just tell the truth. I’m sorry, but you and I both know that the only reason why you would stay late would be because of some trouble you got yourself into.” Donna clarified in a calm tone as she put a hand on her son’s shoulder.

Chester opened and closed his mouth again. There was so much he wanted to say, so many sassy replies on the tip of his tongue, but it was true.

“Well, um, mom…you probably already know it, but…I’m late because I was in detention.” Chester admitted, handing his mother the note. There was no point in lying, anyway.

“ _Again_?! That’s the third time in two weeks, Chester.”

“I know…” Donna sighed before looking at the note her son had passed her, quickly reading it.

“Are you kidding me?!” she said out loud. “You’ve been absent from P.E. five times without an excuse? Without permission? Where were you?”

“I, I can explain…” Chester mumbled, staring at the tiled kitchen floor.

Donna was angry, and she knew that once her husband would come home later, he’d be even angrier. Skipping school was not acceptable. She wouldn’t have thought it’d be P.E., though. If Chester would skip any class, she would have expected it to be math…

“Well, explain then.”

“But can’t I explain it later when dad comes home? I don’t wanna do it twice…”

“But you will explain it twice, young man.”

It was one of the few occasions where Donna was truly mad. Usually, it was Muto who was strict about school and how his sons behaved there, but today, Donna was almost as mad as he’d be later.

“Ughhh, fine.” Chester groaned as he leaned against the counter next to Mike, who hadn’t said a single word in several minutes now. He was dying to get away from the kitchen, to just sit down and eat dinner, and he saw his chance to sneak out when Chester started explaining himself.

The brothers weren’t in the same P.E. class this year because Chester had chosen a course that he thought would help him get more in shape and prepared for the dance classes at college, just in case he got accepted. Since Mike and the rest of the guys were in a different class, skipping gym class had been easy at first. After the third time, though, Chester had opened up to Mike and had told him that he’d skipped class because he disliked the teacher, and Mike had told him that while he understood the reasons behind not wanting to attend P.E., he should stop doing it. Everyone at school knew that after the fifth time skipping class, there would be a note or a call home to notify the parents.

However, Chester had been absent without excuse two more times over the course of this schoolyear, and some of the few times that he had actually attended the class had ended in him getting detention for disrespecting the teacher, but at least he wasn’t the only one in the class who didn’t like that teacher, which sadly was an argument that his mother said wouldn’t count. Chester was sick of high school. He just wanted it to end. He wanted to graduate and finally go to college. Meet new people, become more independent; follow his dreams. What he didn’t want were P.E. lessons with that dumbass teacher.

“And, um…and today I kind of, um…insulted him. That’s why I was sent to detention. I’m sorry, mom.” Chester finished his explanation of the recent events.

“And do you care to tell me what exactly you said to him? No one gets detention just because they were a little disrespectful.”

“You don’t know Mr. Anderson! He’s some ex-military guy who is really fucking strict and I just can’t stand him and – “

“Chester. What did you call him?”

“Called him a fucking dickhead…” he mumbled to the floor, studying his black socks with the pink polka dots.

“Excuse me?! For god’s sakes, Chester, you’re not 12 anymore, you’re almost 18.” Donna scolded.

“He wasn’t supposed to hear me call him that!” he replied in a snippy tone.

It hadn’t been the first time he hadn’t exactly been respectful in class, which Donna was well aware of, but now wasn’t the time for a full discussion. They’d talk more about it later when Muto would come home. She would have loved for her husband to be home already so that he’d be the one who would talk to Chester about this. She didn’t want to be the strict one, but she had to deal with her son skipping his gym class, so she took a deep breath and continued to speak in a calm voice.

“You can’t act like that in college. If you have a professor you can’t stand, you have to deal with it like an adult instead of behaving like a rebellious child.”

“Oh jeez, I know. College will be totally different!” he claimed.

“Let me tell you something, pumpkin.”, Donna began. “When I met Muto, he was still in law school. One day, he told me that there was this one lecturer who was frankly very racist, and that he always made a comment about the students who weren’t white. Muto hated him, but he kept his mouth shut and ignored the comments. He focused on his studies and by the end of the semester he and a group of other students had filed a complaint about the lecturer.”

“Did they get him fired?” Mike asked from the dinner table where he watched the conversation from a safe distance.

“Yes, they did.”

“Woah…”

“And that’s how you deal with problems, Chester.” Donna finished, now addressing him again, since Michael was back to hiding at the table.

Chester didn’t really know what to say to that, so he just nodded and crossed his arms across his chest. He was sure that one of the reasons why he didn’t get along with the new teacher was that he stood out from the crowd. There was something different about him, which was something that Chester had always known about himself. Whenever he had had a teacher that was all about following the rules, his first instinct had been to fight these rules, to be rebellious and insisting on not being told what to do, which was difficult at school. But maybe – just maybe – his mom was right. He couldn’t behave like that anymore, now that he was getting older and closer to being an adult. Maybe he was just being a drama queen?

“Listen to me.” Donna started. “I know you’ve been having trouble with authority figures, but this has to end now. I understand that there are teachers you don’t get along with but you will just have to deal with it and try to play nice until you’re finished with high school, okay?”

“’Kay…”

The apologetic look on her son’s face made Donna want to forgive him instantly. Chester was almost as good as Michael when it came to pouting and making puppy eyes.

“Just one more question, Chester.”

“Yeah?”

“Where did you go when you skipped gym class? I asked about it earlier and you never gave me an answer.”

Chester bit his bottom lip before he answered. He looked away and gazed through the glass door that lead to the patio. “Sometimes I went to the park nearby or to the mall. P.E. is the last lesson of that day, and I just needed to pass the time until I could go home. But I won’t do it again, mom.”

“Okay, then. I won’t say I’m not mad anymore but I want you to know that I love you, pumpkin.” she said, smiling at Chester. “But remember, we’re not done with this conversation, boys. We’ll talk about it more when your father comes home.”

“Hey, wait! What do I have to do with this? I’m not the one who skipped school!” Mike chimed in.

“You might not have skipped classes, but you knew that Chester was doing it and you covered for him.” Donna reminded him before she finally went back to preparing dinner. She had wanted to finish the lasagna and put it into the oven an eternity ago so that she would just have to reheat it when Muto came home, but as always, things didn’t always go as they were planned.

Chester was dreading the conversation he’d have when his dad would come home from work. He really wasn’t ready to tell the whole story again and be scolded for the second time today. Also, he knew that there would be consequences to his actions, because his parents would never let him get away with skipping school. However, he was glad that all recent arguments had ended relatively peacefully. Fights didn’t end in yelling and door-slamming anymore, at least most of the times.

xxxxx

One week had passed since Chester’s parents had found out about him having skipped gym class and ending up in detention, and Chester was now more than pissed off about the outcome of the conversation he had with his parents about it. So was Mike, because he absolutely didn’t see himself at fault in this scenario. They weren’t allowed to go see the concerts in that new club anymore until the start of the next year. Yes, it was already November and the new year would start soon, but it still sucked to not be able to see some of their favorite bands, especially since the shows usually were either free or very affordable with their allowance. Well, at least now they could save more money for getting a cheap car after they got their driving licenses.

Also, Muto had made it clear to Chester that if he misbehaved in any class again, he wouldn’t be allowed to go to concerts until he turned 18, which wouldn’t be until March next year. This whole week sucked for both Chester and Mike, and they wanted nothing more than to turn 18 and graduate high school.

On a rainy afternoon about ten days before Thanksgiving, they sat at their desks doing homework while their parents were still at work. There was music playing in both rooms and the doors were closed while Chester lazily wrote an essay for English class and Mike finished doing the exercises in the biology textbook while he rapped along to his favorite CD. He had planned on producing some beats using his keyboard and the computer after he was done with homework, and maybe after that he could start that painting project he planned on using for his art school applications.

However, both of them heard the phone ringing downstairs. Chester went to answer it, almost slipping on the last part of the stairs. Those red and green striped Christmas socks were really fucking slippery…

“Hello?” he answered the phone.

Upstairs, Mike had left his room to find out who Chester was talking to. Just from the tone of his voice, Mike could tell it was someone they knew but that it also was a serious phone call. It seemed to be neither Dave nor any of their other friends. Mike also noticed that it wasn’t their grandparents on the phone or friends of their parents. It was a short phone call that ended with Chester telling whoever called that they’d be there, whatever that meant. Mike was just about to go back to his room when Chester sprinted up the stairs.

“Anna is at the hospital, there’s something wrong with the baby.”


End file.
